Rule #7: No romantic relationships that last longer than one case.

Blood. My blood trickling down the back of my neck. Her blood pooling on the floor. Her blood is as red as her eyes are green. Even now, she’s beautiful. For a moment, I regret killing her. No. She was the villain. I wish that she wasn’t, but she was. I wish that she was innocent, but she was guilty.

I wonder why she did it. No. I don’t need to know why she did it. I know she did it and that’s enough. I wonder though, why that’s enough. If my brother was here, we wouldn’t rest until we got to the bottom of the mystery, until we tied up all the loose ends and figured everything out. If my brother was here…

I realize that I’m in motion. My body was not content to just stand there as I lost myself in thought. I am half-way up the stairs. I continue. I wander the whole house. I discover that I am the only living soul in the mansion. I end up in a room with a desk. There’s a letter opener on the desk. I examine it. It has been sharpened to an unnecessarily honed edge. It looks wrong on the desk. It’s not a letter opener – it’s a dagger. I decide to take it with me.

I’m back in the foyer. I’m not surprised to see that she’s still lying there. The puddle of blood is steadily growing. There’s a knock at the door. It’s the police. I run towards the back of the house, through the dining room, through the kitchen, and out the back door. I run right into a police officer. I punch him in the gut. He doubles over with a low groan. An elbow to the back of his head knocks him to the ground. The whole thing took less than three seconds. I start running again. The backyard of the mansion is huge. I skirt around the edge of a swimming pool. I climb the fence, visions of those jade green eyes dancing through my head. I run from the police, from the eyes, from myself. I disappear into the night.

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