Tom K. —“Till bullets do us part”

Halloween again. Some go out trick-or-treating, others to parties. We went out to rob a jewelry store. We'd been planning it for weeks, although honestly… the best part was seeing her in that white dress stained with fake blood. Well, not entirely fake.

We've been living off this for years: robberies, kidnappings, ransoms, a convenient disappearance every now and then. She was the worse of the two. The most beautiful, the most cruel. A doll with a rotten soul, with a smile that could kill faster than any bullet. A complete sadist. Her voice sounded like a prayer, but her hands were pure sin.

This year, as always, we dressed up to blend in with the teenagers and kids trick-or-treating. I went as a living dead man, with torn clothes and a cheap Frankenstein mask. I wasn't a zombie, but I thought I was. Anyone who said otherwise would end up with a bullet in their head. She, on the other hand, was a dead bride. So pale, so beautiful, she looked like she'd just crawled out of a grave. And every time I saw her, I imagined our wedding. It would be the perfect hell.

After the robbery, we returned to the old warehouse where we were hiding. The air smelled of smoke, cheap perfume, and new banknotes. I slumped down on the blue beanbag next to her vanity and watched her remove her makeup. The blood, real or fake, trickled down her neck like a crimson necklace. When she sat on my lap, I smiled and put my arm around her waist, adjusting her dress with my hand.

— Did you have fun, beautiful? Sorry I didn't get that necklace you wanted. I leaned in slightly, my lips brushing against his ear. — I promise you that another day will be yours.

I pulled her closer, feeling her breath mingle with mine.

🎃