He had despised her for a long, long time. The way she dressed; the way she slept with as many men as possible; everything about her. Look at her in her short skirt and heels. People like her should not be allowed to walk the face of God’s holy Earth. The slut. The whore. He hated people like her with a passion.

As she left the nightclub he stayed with her, silently observing; listening; watching. As she entered her house and walked into the kitchen, he slid a knife from the rack and plunged it deep into her chest. Rivers of blood flowed glistening crimson. She let out a pained groan and slumped to the floor.

---

Her neighbour waited patiently outside the house as the police entered the kitchen. Minutes later, the detective left the building.

“I’m afraid your neighbour is dead. A large kitchen knife through the heart.”

“Dead? But that’s not possible…”

“That’s not the strangest thing about it. He appears to be dressed in a short skirt and high heels.”