𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 - 𝐚 𝐃𝐲𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲

It was done.

Finally done.

I tried to warn her. That was the least I could do. It’s a sad sight to see, really. Hannah was such a wonderful woman. Such a bright soul with an intelligent mind.

Just not intelligent enough to give me what I wanted.

I stepped back from the body and looked at my work. The dangle of her lower body perfectly aligned with the chandelier, as if they were in motion.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Perfect unison.

I left Hannah alone in her spot, making my way to my purse. My hand felt around until I had pulled out the missing piece: her suicide note. Such a shame. Someone you’d think was so happy about her success was just so lonely, looking for a way out. I crumbled the piece of paper, making sure to get it just wrinkly enough to make sure it was believable. I opened the piece of paper again before laying it down at her feet, admiring her red bottoms.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice those before, Hannah! Even in death, you sure are stylish,” I complimented. I hoped she could hear me. “I’ll have to do some research into where you got these from. They’d be a perfect house-warming gift.”

I picked up the barstool and carefully carried it back down the stairs, lining it back up with its pair in the kitchen. After retrieving my purse from the countertop, I made my way towards the front door. I was home-free at this point. I never knew getting away with murder would be this…thrilling.

It was a completely new feeling. Something I had never felt before. I felt invincible. On top of the world.

No one could stop me.

No…no thing could stop me.

I opened the front door to let myself off, turning to say goodbye to the house, and Hannah, one last time. Then the adrenaline kicked in. I knew no one lived here–it had just gone up for sale, so there was virtually no one who could find me. But then the “what-ifs” started up again. Before they could take full control I rushed to my car, trying my hardest not to look over my shoulder out of the fear that Hannah would be looking at me.

Would she? Oh, what a story I could tell.

I unlocked my car and got inside, dropping my purse in the passenger seat. I closed the door, locked the car, and stared at the building from the driver’s seat. My eyes shifted up to look at my rearview mirror, watching the charm Hannah had given me dangle due to the movement of the car. My chest tightened a bit as I thought about her.

About how I left her.

“Holy shit I gotta get out of here.” I fumbled the keys into the ignition and managed to turn it, the headlights illuminating the front of the house. I turned to make sure I was free to leave before pulling out of the driveway, finally leaving the scene.

I did it. I killed a woman.

And got away with it.