He had a plan. This was all part of the plan. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. “It could have been so different” he said, “but you had to go and fuck everything up, because you decided it wasn’t enough anymore, what you had just wasn’t enough.” He almost felt sorry for her. Almost. But as he felt her thrash around as he held her under, he imagined it was her face. That’s why he was doing this. It was all her fault. She deserved this, they all did. They all had what was coming for them. They were stupid to think otherwise, to think they’d get away with it. It couldn’t have been simpler if he’d tried. As if it was fate. The plan was perfect, right place, right time, they wouldn’t suspect him. They had no reason to, no evidence or leads worth a damn. That’s what made it even more perfect. They’d never suspect him; never make the connection, because there was no connection to make. She was putting up a good fight, he hoped the rest of them would too, that’s what was the most pleasing. He could almost hear her willing him to let her go, that it wasn’t what it looked like, that she could change. Bullshit. The same pathetic lies over and over, and because that thought infuriated him further, he tightened the hold on her neck, bringing his fingers tighter around her throat. Digging his nails in until he saw a tint of red in the water. It was amazing how superior he felt over her. Holding her life in his hand, he didn’t understand why people used drugs when you could do this. He’d imagined it would give the same high. All too soon though, as everyone does, he came down from his high as she stilled beneath him. It was easier than he thought, taking a life with his bare hands. He supposed it made it easier that he felt no remorse for the lying bitch limp under him. The next part of the plan was simple, leave a mark. His eyes roamed over the room. It was tidy, too tidy, he’d have to change that before he left. He looked from the body below him to the frame on the wall, his decision made. His elbow quickly made contact with the frame, the glass shattering, falling to the floor. He picked up the largest shard, seeing himself in the reflection and rather admiringly liking what he saw. He walked quickly back to the body and lifted her blouse, it was expensive and it’d be rude to get it dirty. He softly stroked her back, caressing it, smiling to himself, before slowly carving the shard into her skin.