Her last breath.
Her eyes open as a stream of red flows into a her in her heart.

“Why?” she asks to a man not listening before her limp body rises to a standing position.

A gasp escapes her lips as a bullet flies from her heart in a brilliant spray of af blood.

Simultaneously, a small explosion is sucked back into the chamber where bullet places itself.

He unblinks, his eyes staring at the gun, and not her.
Never her.

As tears flow from the puddle on the ground into his wet eyes, he mouths an apology.

“I’m sorry” he says, more to himself than her, while his right hand lowers the gun to his side.

His eyes flickering left and right, the decision escapes his mind.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he pleads, putting the gun into the pokcet of his jacket.

There is a clang and the bloody crowbar rises into his hand. He turns, surprised by the presence of another.