Last Laugh

You, who I loved, who I trusted. I gave you my heart, and you took it, beating, right out of my chest. Literally. Newspaper accounts spoke of the girl found dead in a hotel room, murdered in such violence. Was a new serial killer emerging in our fair city?

You turned to her, letting her comfort you, as though you needed comforting. I watched, and I knew she felt triumphant over me, over you, judging by the gloating look on her face. And little by little, she tricked you into marrying her. Or maybe it was the other way around. If only she knew you as intimately as my ghost did.

I could warn her, if I wanted to. I can manipulate events and situations in the physical plane, but I won't. She will get what she deserves without my interference. It's no coincidence that you booked the same hotel room for your honeymoon, just one short year later.

I sit in a chair by the window to wait. The view is pleasant, and I enjoy the sounds of the city. I ignore you in the bed with her, clearly enjoying yourself. This is not the part I came for. Eventually, you both settle in silence, sleeping, but then I see you begin to move.

I can't imagine how you expect to get away with this again, but maybe you can't help yourself. I relive the moment as I watch you climb on top of her, covering her mouth with one hand. Her eyes open wide with disoriented surprise, and then horror. You muffle her screams while sliding your sharp knife down her chest. I look out the window and see the police cars arriving far below. I have summoned them. They come for you, but like a magician, I will not reveal my secrets. I smile. I want to laugh, but that would disrupt your work, and I must let you continue. You work quickly, confidently. You have gained a deft efficiency since last time, my time.

The chest cavity is open, and I watch as she comes out of herself, stunned and unsure, as we all are at first. You put your hand deep inside her, just as a knock sounds at the door. Do you recognize the sound of my laugh?