I stepped back, adjusting my clothes in the dark, my heart finally slowing down. The silence of the room was heavy, suffocating. The girl didn't move. She lay slumped across the desk, her head turned to the side, her eyes half-closed and staring at nothing.
"F*ck," I whispered.
The weight of the silence in the office was suffocating, but I didn't feel the crushing guilt a normal man would. I stared at the girl and felt a cold, clinical detachment. This made two. Two people dead under my hands. And while I hadn't walked in here intending to end a life, I couldn't bring myself to be entirely sorry. As I looked at her limp form on the desk, a dark, twisted thought flickered in my mind: I almost wished it was Sarah. If she was the one lying there, she wouldn't be out there right now, laughin
