I looked at the money, then thought about the last six hours.
“Fuck,” I said to myself, as I saw the blood. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It’s not that I liked her – I didn’t. I had what I wanted, but now I had to… do something unpleasant. “Fuck,” I repeated.
I checked her pulse; it was weak. I had hit her way harder than I had planned. I dragged the bleeding body back to the car and slid her into the back seat.
I drove as quickly as I could; the hospital was not far away.
As I crested 12th street I hit the breaks hard: an accident. She slammed into the front seats, then fell to the floor. “Fuck!” Four cars were splayed about the road in front of me in various directions. I was not getting past.
As I worked to turn my car around, I glanced back at her; she stared back at me with dead eyes.
So I went back home to get a shovel, some lye and gas, then drove out into the country where I knew of a place that I could dig and not be disturbed.
My only real regret was having to burn the car.