How To Hide A Body

Reflections

Blood stained the oak floor. I could hear my breaths and Cléo's grunts as she clutched her shoulder blade. I couldn't hear Rachel. I couldn't hear Bart. I tugged at my hair as if I was threatening to pull it out. My cheeks were wet, but I can't remember crying. My breaths did not satisfy and I kept gulping for more. My lungs burned with every breath. I couldn't move. I hadn't felt shock in a long time. Oh, and how I hate it.

I heard the floor creak and turned. When he walked into the faint circle of light which came from the glass stained window, I saw not an enemy but a reflection of myself. Hands shaking. Tear stained cheeks. Chest heaving. His eyes slowly met mine. We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity in silence. I couldn't feel my body. I struggled to find the energy to speak. I was exhausted. I tried to pull myself forward, digging my nails into the floorboards, but my body crumpled to the floor. I heard him fall to his knees. He gently placed Rachel's head on his lap. He erupted into a fit of sobs like a volcano.

I glanced at Cléo, who had gone pale and was seconds away from passing out, "Cléo" I managed to whimper.

"Sol, I'll be fine. Steve-" her voice faltered and she let out another agonising yelp. I wanted to go to her. I wanted to hold her the way Magnus was holding Rachel, but I was paralysed. Even if I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, I knew I would immediately go to sleep. I was so tired-

"What have you done-" Magnus finally managed to say. His voice was deep and mellow.

I chuckled and looked into his eyes, "Yes, this is entirely my fault."

He looked down, "It wasn't supposed to end like this..."

"Nothing ever ends the way it should. It's part of the human experience." He didn't respond. He just brushed a curl of hair away from Rachel's face. The night before I had come up with a whole list of things to say to Magnus Hoffburg for when I would finally face him. But they all fell away. I almost felt sorry for him.

It was then that the reality sunk in. The man before me had blackmailed me. He had been my puppet master for a month. He had possibly killed Cléo and maybe even Bart. Yet, he was sitting right in front of me. I had a gun in my hand. But, I didn't even release the safety. I could kill him, right there and then. But, I felt nothing. I was numb from exhaustion. All I could think was, "Jean was right. He does have blue eyes."

I looked up at Magnus. For a month I had not been able to put a face to the absolute force of terror. But, looking at him now, I just saw a hopeless young man, who had lost everything. His eyes were this unforgiving ice-storm blue, which stuck out like icicles against his pale skin. He had dark, shoulder-length curls and imp-like ears. I watched his yellow and red striped shirt get soaked with his lover's blood. I couldn't believe that this was the blackmailer. My blackmailer. I couldn't believe that the man I believed was the most powerful man in the world wore red and yellow. Together.

I saw him reach into the pocket of his slacks and retrieve a gun. Some buried survival instinct revived itself from somewhere deep within me and I immediately raised Rachel's gun and pointed it at his head. He didn't seem perturbed. He held the weapon in one hand, the other carefully stroked Rachel's forehead.

"Killing me won't bring her back," I said, surprised at my confident tone.

"I know. I'm not a child."

"Your grandmother was right. You do work on emotion."

"So do you."

I raised an eyebrow. He was right. I ordered, "Put the gun down."

"We were going to get married."

"What?" I asked. I managed to sit up.

"After we killed you. We were going to get married in Austria, have our honeymoon in France and then move to Nepal, where we met. We were going to be rich together. Travel the world. But you," he raised the gun at me, holding it in one shaky hand, "You got in the way! If you had just died, Rachel wouldn't be dead, Bart wouldn't be dead and neither would Cléo-" It felt as if someone had slapped me across the face. I hadn't heard Cléo say anything in a long time. My breath hitched. What if she was-