Mrs. Homicide

"HOLD ME TIGHTER," SHE WHIMPERED. "I'M SCARED."

What could I tell her—we all have to go sometime? Her eyes searched mine. "You hate me, don't you?" I shook my head. "Prove it," she whispered. "Kiss me goodbye."

I leaned closer in the bed, feeling the white curves of her flesh pressing against me. Her lips clung greedily to mine, the fingers of one hand tangled in my hair. Her other hand reached out and picked the gun off the pillow.

"Just so I won't be lonely," she murmured. She thrust the guns into my guts and pulled the trigger…