"There are worse things you can do to the people you love than kill them. No matter how much you think you love somebody, you'll step back when the pool of their blood edges up too close."
-Chuck Palahniuk.

"This is what happens when you try to save the world." I sighed, wrapping the gun back up in the very old and crusty scarf and pocketing it with a gloved hand. I nodded my head to the guy who hadn't heard my words, he was too busy counting the cash.

I had been worried that this guy was going to be too shifty to go through with it. I had been worried that I wouldn't get the gun. But, he pulled through.

I pulled my hood off my head and began walking down the stairs of the disease ridden hotel. How people still spent a night here after glancing at it, I didn't want to know. A flea bag hotel for a flea bag population, I guess.

It was still raining when I got outside. The road was clear, which was good. Didn't want anyone seeing me leaving this place. That'd be fun to explain.

Exactly fifty-seven minutes later found me sitting in a better, but still disreputable, hotel. I was in the lobby, pretending to read a magazine. The words were jumbled together and I couldn't make out anything in the pictures. My eyes were glued to the door. And two minutes after that, almost an hour of having the gun in my pocket, a couple walked in.

The were nuzzling, cooing to each other. I raised the magazine an inch to cover my face and continued to watch. A room with one bed was requested. The keys were handed over. And they were attached at the lips before the elevator doors were closed.

Now I had to be sneaky. I smiled politely to the guy behind the counter, mentioning something about how if my boyfriend wasn't there already, he wasn't coming, and then out the door.

I headed up the side alley and in through the back door. Then up a flight of stairs and down the hall. It wasn't hard to find their room. They were making a lot of noise, even through the closed door.

My lies about waiting on a boyfriend weren't exactly lies. He was here. He was in room 309, to be exact.

He proposed to me infront of my entire family. My mother went teary eyed and put a hand to her mouth, a smile working its way there. My father smiled proudly at his soon-to-be son in law and then clapped him on the back. My siblings just smiled, both aware that I hadn't answered yet and that I didn't look very happy.

In fact, I had expressed many times that I didn't want to get married right now. I was just finishing college and no matter how much I loved him, I wasn't ready yet. Cause with marriage comes kids (usually) and I couldn't afford that on my Market Place salary and he was working at a gas station.

Two months after that lovely night, I found a condom in the back pocket of his jeans while he was out of the house. Not really strange. We'd had sex, often actually.

But we didn't use flavored condoms. He knew I detested them, actually.

So what was going on? He was cheating on me. And by doing a little investigation, I found out more about the girl. She was a regular at his gas station, filling up when she didn't need it. She flirted with him. He gave in.

I didn't confront him, no matter how much I wanted to. Instead, I came up with an idea. Give him the chance to tell me. So as we picked out a date for the wedding, I joking asked if he knew anyone that would object to the marriage. He didn't say anything, just smiled lightly.

He also asked to invite a few of his work buddies to the wedding. I was okay with that. But apparently, one of his work buddies was the girl. I wasn't okay with that.

Then I came up with the idea. I was in distress and out of ideas, which is what I'd say if I ever got caught. I'd buy a gun and walk in on one of their nights together, wave it around a bit, break up with him, and then leave.

The gun wasn't even loaded! I'd checked.

I heard a rather deep moan and figured that was my cue to walk in. So, guns blazing (pardon the pun), I stormed in.

I wanted to be indifferent when I saw them but shock was written across my face no matter what. I knew he was cheating on me, but seeing it was different than just knowing it.

Shock turned to disgust quickly as they covered themselves. That's when I realized he was talking, animatedly, trying to calm me down. She was whimpering in the corner of the bed, pulling the sheet up as if to keep me away from her. He kept raising his hands and scooting further back. And I didn't know why. Until I looked down.

I had the gun in my hand. I didn't remember grabbing it from my pocket. It was pointed, shakingly, between them. It wasn't loaded. It wasn't loaded.

I wanted to say that it was over. I wanted to say that I knew he was a cheating bastard. I wanted to say that I didn't care. But I couldn't move my mouth. It wouldn't listen to me.

I pulled the trigger to hear a snap. That was when I was supposed to leave. Let them understand that I wasn't going to kill them. But I kept pulling the trigger. Not part of the plan.

What else wasn't part of the plan? The gun went off. I don't know how. Maybe I didn't check it like I thought I did. But all I know was she had a pretty bullet hole in her forehead.

And I wasn't done. I pointed it at him and pulled the trigger again. It went off again. But it only nicked him. So I pulled it once more and it went straight through his head. He hadn't been on the bed when I shot him the first time. He had stood up the moment I had shot his companion.

He fell on the cold concrete floor, his body making a sickening thud. I glanced at the gun and slowly put it down. I kept my gloves on, knowing I'd have to use them to open the window if I didn't want to leave finger prints.

I can't believe I did that. I can't believe...

I watched my love bleeding on the floor. The blood pool was going away from me, except two tiny lines were headed my way. And right as they were to reach my foot, I moved.

I ran to the window, threw it open, and rushed outside. I kept the gloves until I got home when I threw them into the fire place and got rid of the evidence. The last person to touch the gun was the guy I had bought it from. And he didn't know my name nor did he see my face fully. I was safe...

Unless dead people can talk.

When the police came to me, I acted the devastated lover and cried. The tears were real, oddly enough. I clutched to the officer, crying until I couldn't cry anymore. They asked the mandatory questions and I gave the premeditated answers. I wasn't cold hearted but I was going to get away with this.

And as the officers were leaving, I stood at the door and watched. And before they entered their car, I called back to them.

"Catch the guy that broke my heart, won't you?"