#35: Serial killer and a cop

He wasn't expecting her to be waiting on him in his house. He didn't know that she was the one. The one who had been committing all those murders. He refused to believe that the woman he had dated and loved was the one who was doing all these terrible things. As a cop it was shameful that he hadn't noticed that all the facts were pointing towards her. The were all pointing towards her. And now here he was, the handle of a butcher's knife protruding from his chest, staring at her in disbelief. Blood dripping from his chin,falling upon his shirt, soaking it a dark crimson color, transferring the color from his face to his shirt, dribbling out of his mouth, the last bit of his life slipped away as his heart, slowing in his chest, finally stopped, and his body, descending to the ground, his lifeless eyes looking up as if staring into the face of he devil. She had killed him without so much as a second thought. She had played him like a fool, becoming the friend of a cop was the sure fire way to avoid suspicion, and now as he lay there, dead, she walked off, leaving him behind, a single tear staining his cheek.