Teardrop

It was dark in the room. Outside the rain lashed against the single window blowing puffs of cold, damp, air through the gaps. The net curtains shivered in the draught.

Casey rocked herself back and forth in time to the flashing of the neon signage on the top of the building opposite. Her makeup was smeared down her face, in rivulets of black mascara and glitter; pooling at the tip of her sharply pointed chin. She'd stopped crying now, but the pain inside was still as raw as when it started. Maybe it was time.

She picked up the gun...