Happy Ending

     Sometimes I wonder if the way I remember my past is the way it actually was or if I've embellished things to make it better. I mean, most of us to some extent see our pasts through the nostalgia tinted lenses of youth and innocence. Inexperience. But how deep does it go? It makes me question everything. Was that really the way something happened, or the way I wish it would have?

      Rose snaps her fingers in my face, the electric blue nail polish scratched and chipped. "You're overthinking things again. I told you it would only cause you problems."

      She smiles at me despite the irritation in her tone and the ever-present blood between her straight, white teeth makes my stomach swoop. A little oozes out onto her full lips like half-applied lipstick as her smile fades and her lips slip closed, the bright red color proclaiming it's freshness.

      "This is serious, B. You have to focus. For both of us, remember?"

      I think I feel her hand on my shoulder, one brief caress, before the feeling is gone. I shiver at the sensation.

      "I remember." The words slide out of my mouth on my exhale, barely audible, but I know she heard me because she nods and stares solemnly at my face.

      "He's coming up the stairs. I can hear him. Get ready."

      I adjust my gloved grip on the knife as Rose peeks her head out of the room. The muted light from the hallway brings new contrast to the dark, matted, rusty brown creeping along the side of her head. Most of her hair is still the cheerful pink that I remember though the roots have grown out to show her natural blonde.

      "He's alone. This should be quick."

      I take a few deep, silent breaths and prepare myself to take a life. It's not as easy as it looks in the movies and on TV. It takes more force than most people would think it does to cut through skin and bone and muscle tissue and organs...

      "Now." Rose says calmly into the darkness.

      I watch the shadowy figure of a man pass by the open doorway and I fall in line behind him. He is unaware that I'm there and for one delightful and brief moment I'm like a child again playing hide and seek.

      Olly olly oxen free... I kick the back of his knee just hard enough that his leg buckles and he goes down hard on it.

      "Wha-" he starts to speak but I pull back his head by his long, greasy hair and waste no time in plunging the knife in and out, in and out. His blood is warm and smells metallic and it's the same shade of red as Rose's. Soon enough it will cool and darken and coagulate and then it won't be the same at all.

      My work is done in a matter of seconds but I don't know how many because I didn't count them. He gurgles one last time and I let his hair go with a gentle nudge to the base of his skull so that he falls forwards. He makes a splat and thud kind of sound when he lands and I look down at him dispassionately. He died without knowing who killed him or why. I can't decide if that's fitting or tragic. I'd be the worst sort of person to decide which.

      Rose is standing beside me and she also looks down at the empty vessel. To be fair I'm not even sure I'm the one who made him empty. I just killed him but I think he was empty for a long time before now.

      "How many is that?" she asks.

      "Today? Or in total?"

      "Don't be a smart-ass."