The sky was black, black enough to swallow me whole. As I waited for my target, I caught sight of her through a small gap in the curtain. Her hair shimmered in the faint glow of the lamplight. She had angered someone, and they wanted her dead.
In an instant, it was over. Her blood painted a more stunning picture than her hair ever could. I covered my tracks and left without a sound.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I lay awake until the first rays of the sun stretched across the sky. It was only under the sun's warmth that I finally drifted off. It was the only warmth I ever felt.
Jasmine woke me gently, her presence soft and comforting. I kissed her hand—it was a ritual of ours. She was my weakness, the reason I did what I did. The reason I killed. To protect her.
I followed her into the kitchen, where she handed me a piece of paper. It was an application for a part-time job. She didn't want me sitting around the apartment all day. Jasmine came from a wealthy family; her life was meticulously planned from the start. She was supposed to marry some rich guy, but she refused. Jasmine was a lesbian, and while her family disapproved, they couldn't afford to cut her off. She was the only one of her siblings capable of running the family business.
Her parents didn't like me, and I didn't care. All that mattered was her.
Jasmine and I had met in high school. I was a senior; she was a sophomore. We bonded over books and clashed over movie genres, but we always relied on each other. We kissed for the first time in college, and that was when our friendship became something more. It wasn't easy at first love never is—but we made it work.
I pulled Jasmine into my arms to hug her. Jasmine didn't like physical affection much. She would squirm when I pulled her into a cuddle, though eventually she'd give in. Despite our differences, we loved each other fiercely.