Lucky 28

She was taking her last breaths; going through her final thoughts. And yet, Claire Marshall couldn't quite believe it. Was this it? Was this all there was? Had her life really been meant for this?

She was so young and there was still so much left to do. She thought of her handsome & beautiful husband, Andy. Her two, just as beautiful children, Ryan & Elizabeth. She thought about Mouse, her fat, stubby legged cat she'd owned since college. The plants she'd forgotten to water. Her nosy neighbor, Mrs. Gunderson. Nathan Jones, the virile young paperboy who always brought her a small box of chocolates at Christmas time. They all came flooding to her in an instant...

Then came the knife.

The knife, a once gleaming double-edged serrated blade, eased its way into her body for the 28th time. Of course 28. It had always been his lucky number. And with that final entry, Claire's body finally gave in to the assault.

He watched her. Watched as her body went limp. Her body, once so fresh & clean after he had so meticulously washed every single part of her, was now covered in her blood. He listened as her final breath escaped her lips and noticed how her mouth stayed just slightly open; her blood-stained lips practically beckoning his for a long, deep kiss.

But it was her eyes he focused on the most. Her eyes. The soul windows. Only insecure people called them that, he thought. Still, they were so green; so vibrant, even in death. Somehow they reminded him of the thing he loved most about life; how easily he could snuff it out. He couldn't take his off of hers.

So he leaned in closer.

And in the corner of Claire's eyes, came a reflection. A distorted reflection of a handsome, bearded man, his face streaked with blood. His mouth, once clenched tight from his intense focus, began to relax and open. It didn't stop until he was beaming from ear to ear; his oversized and perfectly white, toothy grin betraying his internal glee.

Claire had made him so happy.

With her dead, he was now halfway to his lucky number.