Unknown
Her scream drifts down the street, thin and delicate, gone almost as soon as it begins. She never saw me coming. She stumbles into the alley, heels clattering against the wet pavement. She’s too drunk to keep her balance, too drunk to notice the way the night is holding its breath.
I move the way shadows move.
Silent.
Patient.
She senses me only at the last second, turning her head with bleary eyes, lips parting for another scream that never has the chance to rise.
The rock fits easily into my palm. It comes down in a wet, sharp crack.
Her body folds in on itself, crumpling like paper left too long in the rain.
Blood seeps across the concrete, dark and glossy, finding the cracks in the ground as if it were meant to flow there.
I let the rock fall beside her, its dull thud strangely gentle as it settles near her cheek.
My hood hides my face; my steps stay light.
I peel off the gloves slowly and carefully, one finger at a time, and drop them into a bin a block away.
I leave, calm and unhurried, the silence of the night swallowing me whole.