no body, no crime

i did something bad

Everything is ready. I've been planning this meticulously, and I couldn't be more prepared than I am right now. My plan is straightforward: go to his house, slip inside while he's distracted, and take my shot. After that, I'll dispose of the body in the lake, ensuring it sinks deep enough to never be found again.

As I sit in my bedroom, I'm finishing my preparations. In front of me, a few cherished photographs are propped up. One captures a moment from my childhood, where a younger version of me smiles joyfully on a swing, surrounded by my family. Another shows me tightly hugging my best friend during her 30th birthday celebration in front of the Colosseum in Rome, both of us beaming with happiness.

I sit on the edge of my bed, my mind swirling with thoughts and emotions. Suddenly, Willow, that is in the photograph, seems to come to life and speaks to me.

"You don't have to do this, Scarlett."

"What?" I blink, taken aback.

"I'm always watching over you, and I know you've been trying so hard to get me justice."

"How... he killed you, right?"

"You already know this, Scarlett. I can't control your actions, but do you really want to go through with this?"

"Of course I do! He took you away from me, from life! He deserves the same fate!"

"I understand how you feel, Scarl. The police aren't helping, and you want to take matters into your own hands. But if you kill him, they might never catch him, but they will catch you!"

"He's not going to be caught, Wilo... he destroyed all your things, and his lawyer always has the perfect excuse. You have to trust me; I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a crime scene. They're not going to catch me. And if they do, I did it all for you. It may cost me my life in prison, but justice will be served!"

"You know I trust you more than anything, Scarlett. If you feel you need to do this, then go and confront him. I'll always be right there by your side. Goodbye."

"..."

The picture suddenly falls silent. I don't know if it was all in my head; it wouldn't surprise me. My mental health has been spiraling downhill for quite some time now.

I get up and finish getting ready, choosing something simple that won't draw attention. I grab a small bag filled with essentials, including gloves, rope, and the weapon I intend to use—a small statue that he gifted me for my birthday years ago.

Once I step outside, I consciously avoid using my car to prevent being caught on camera. It's a short walk to his house, and within three minutes, I stand in front of it.

I know better than to enter through the front; their security cameras are too obvious. Instead, I choose the bathroom window, which I know they always leave open. After weeks of stalking, I've memorized their routine.

To my relief, the window is indeed open. I carefully slide it open just enough to slip inside without making a sound. The house is eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of the television.

There he is, just as I imagined, lounging on the couch, engrossed in whatever's on the screen. A warm light bathes the room, illuminating his face and casting shadows behind him.

He's completely oblivious to my presence, but then the screen flickers to black for a brief moment, and I'm caught in the glow. I should have struck then, but instead, he turns around, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"How did you get in??" he stammers.

"That's not the issue," I reply coolly.

"What do you want?"

"I know you killed her, Mason. I'm here to get my revenge."

"I didn't kill anybody! What are you talking about??"

"Don't play the victim, Mason. Willow is dead, and you are responsible. She knew too much about what you and Brooke were up to—going around and killing people..."

I can see his anxiety rising, the color draining from his face.

"So you silenced her, and now you're living your best life with your mistress!"

In a fit of rage, Mason lunges at me, his face flushed with anger. But I'm faster. I dodge him and, with the statue gripped tightly in my hands, I begin to strike.

Fear and anger fuel my movements, and with each blow, I can feel the weight of justice coming down with me. I continue until I can no longer hear his breathing. Finally, justice is served.

He lies on the floor, lifeless and drenched in blood.

I make my way to their bedroom—the room where Willow once slept. I take the white blankets from the bed and replace them with ones I find in the wardrobe. After that, I wrap his body in the blanket, securing it tightly with the rope around his head and feet so it won't slip out.

I do my best not to leave any stains on the floor, but blood splatters on the walls remain. Using bleach, I scrub away the evidence until the place is spotless. No one would be able to discover a trace of what happened, not even with forensic ultraviolet light.

Once everything is back in its original place, it looks as if no one had set foot in that house that day.

His body is heavy, but I manage to drag it to the lake, where I plan to dispose of it. I find a small wooden boat, row it to the center, and drop the body into the water.

As I watch the white blanket sink deeper with every passing second, I feel a rush of satisfaction wash over me. I toss my bag in with it to ensure all the evidence disappears into the lake's depths.

Finally, I walk back home, take a long, hot shower, and feel a sense of calm wash over me. It was all surprisingly simple, really. I was fortunate that he didn't catch me during those critical moments; it could have ended very differently.