It was very dark. Nobody could have seen it. Nobody could have even seen the drops of red dripping from his fingers. But he could feel the hot blood on his hands. And he could see her body lying in front of him.

It must have been a very painful death. He had slit her throat and as blood drained and her body twitched, he stood there watching. But she didn’t scream. She had not even shouted when he took out knife in that dark alley. She had just looked at him for a moment….and then she closed her eyes. And in that single moment, her eyes didn’t ask him “Why ?”, rather those eyes asked herself “How could he?”. She didn’t say a word thereafter. Not when he pressed the knife to her throat, now when he made the first cut, not when he slit her throat open and not a sound when she lay there fighting a painful battle with death. She just took it all with a stony silence.

And silence is all that he was left with now. He touched her body, it was cold - it had none of the warmth that he was used to. Her eyes had popped out - they had none of the twinkle that he has known. Her lips had turned blue – not the rose red that he remembered.

He had killed her.

He knew he had killed her but it was still very dark so no one else might have seen it. So he decided to wait by the body till the day break. They might just need a witness or two to prove that he killed her…

And he didn't want to take any chances with the hanging....