MURDER AND LOVE: A KILLER'S GUIDE

The house was a blur of activity, officers bustling in and out, their boots leaving smudges on the floor where Betty's body had been sprawled hours earlier after lifting it off the bed. The living room was eerily quiet now, except for the occasional floorboard creak.

The house was heavy with silence once the last officer left, but the air still felt thick with questions and judgment. Every detail of Betty's death had been scrutinized, from the positioning of her body to the faint scent of blood that lingered in the air. Even after they had zipped her into a black body bag and carted her out, I could feel her presence like a ghost hovering in the room.

I sat on the couch, barely breathing, as if any sudden movements would reveal the secrets I carried.

The detectives had questioned me earlier on arrival. I knew they would be suspicious given our times together and why I had her come over. I told them everything they needed to hear before they left.

I looked over at my doorstep to see Jamal and Asher. They on a troubled look, probably because I had a dead girl in my house, and none of them knew her. So, I understand that. This is my problem now—I caused it.

"You okay Khloe?" Jamal walked towards me, sitting next to me.

"I'm fine," I answered my voice raspy but also no emotions held in it.

"Well, I'll be on my way. If you need anything just call, okay?"

I nodded. He sighed before signaling Asher.

"Khloe," Asher's voice broke through the quiet. I looked up to see him leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. "You okay?"

"Why does everyone keep asking that? I'm fine," I said, though my voice betrayed the lie.

He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. "You've been sitting here like a statue for an hour. Talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about," I snapped, standing abruptly. The motion sent a tremor through me, but I ignored it. "She was staying here. She's dead now. That's all."

"Why was she staying here?"

I didn't answer immediately. I moved toward the kitchen, grabbing the nearest bottle of water from the counter. "She needed a place. It wasn't a big deal."

"Khloe." His voice had a warning edge, soft but firm. "You never mentioned her before. Not once."

I took a long sip of water, stalling. "It wasn't worth mentioning."

"Wasn't worth mentioning that you had someone living with you? That she was staying here and now she's dead?"

I slammed the bottle down on the counter, spinning to face him. "What's your point, Asher? You think I had something to do with this?"

His jaw tightened, but he shook his head. "No. But the cops do. And honestly? You're not making it any easier for yourself."

I glared at him, my chest tightening. "What do you want me to say? That we were friends? That we hooked up once? Fine! There, I said it."

The words hung between us like a challenge. Asher blinked, clearly startled. "You and her…?"

"Yes," I snapped, my frustration boiling over. "Does that answer all your questions? Or do you need a detailed timeline too?"

He stared at me, his expression unreadable. "I didn't take you for a lesbian."

I laughed bitterly. "I'm not. It was… a one-time thing. We hung out sometimes. That's it."

He nodded slowly, but his eyes still held doubt. "Okay. But it doesn't explain why she was here. Or why she's dead."

"That's not for me to explain," I said, brushing past him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to clean up this mess."

Asher didn't budge. "Khloe, stop. You're deflecting."

"Would you please leave my home?" I said calmly, my voice still trembling.

"Khloe—"

"Get. Out!" I shouted, my hands slammed against the wall.

He took one good look at me, his face—no expressions. He grabbed his coat, slamming thedoor behind him.

I let out a loud gasp. My head was still spiraling. I was furious. Not that I cared for her, but because I am back to square one. No face. No name. No clue.

Wait!

What if she left a clue for me around her somewhere? I went straight to the living room, destroying, scattering everywhere—trying to find anything. I headed into the room—the blood still there on the bed. I searched for anything. Hair. Fiber. Anything.

I couldn't find one. I screamed, smashing the very expensive vase. I haven't been this destructive in years. I need to kill. I held my head—the voices seeping through them, telling me to hurt, kill. I grabbed my hair, pulling it—trying to yank it out of my scalp—anything that would stop this darkness inside of me.

"Khloe? Are you good?" I could her a voice now, this one less haunting more soothing. I stared to the doorstep. Asher. Apparently, he didn't go.

"Its Asher" He came towards me, kneeling it front of me. Wrapping his hands around me.

"I told you to go." I said still holding my hair.

"Well it's not only you that can be stubborn" I let out a small laugh—letting go of my hair before surrendering to his hug. It felt good—safe. I haven't felt that in a long time, I haven't felt that at all.

"It's okay to breakdown you know? You don't have to hold it in to prove you are strong. You have every right to cry over someone you care about." He whispered in my ear, as he tried to calm me down.

I did not feel anything for Betty. She was a distraction though but she was nice. Her dying was not a plan I held in the future. I didn't realize, the tears flowing down my eyes. Streams of it flowed, to the point I couldn't control anymore. Before you know it, I had a full crashout. Crying, wailing, sniffing. No one has ever seen me breakdown like this, even when my parents found me I had a blank expression on my face.

Is it something to do with betty? My relations to her? Or was it Asher? This sudden calmness I feel when he is around. I cant explain it. Maybe I don't need to. Maybe it's a gift from God to help with the killings.

My eyes were now swollen, I continued to cry until my eyes gave into the slumber of the night.

The morning light seeped through the blinds, casting soft streaks across the bedroom. My body ached as I stirred, the hardness of the floor pressing uncomfortably against my back. A deep inhale from beside me sent a jolt of awareness through my half-asleep state.

I turned my head slowly and froze.

Asher was lying just inches away, his face relaxed in sleep, his breath warm against my cheek. For a moment, I didn't move, my mind scrambling to piece together how we'd ended up like this.

I remembered sitting on the couch last night, the tension between us still palpable, his insistence on staying despite my protests. The clue I was searching for, the cries. At some point, we must've slid onto the floor—how, I couldn't say. But here we were, sprawled out like two idiots, uncomfortably close.

His face was unguarded in sleep, the usual sharpness in his features softened. There was something disarming about it, but the closeness was suffocating.

I sucked in a quiet breath, my heart racing. I couldn't wake him like this—not with his face practically in mine. It felt too… intimate, too raw.

Carefully, I started to move, inching away from him without making a sound. But, of course, the moment I shifted, his eyes fluttered open.

"Morning," he mumbled groggily, his voice rough with sleep.

I froze mid-movement, caught like a deer in headlights. "Uh… yeah. Morning."

He blinked, his gaze locking onto mine, and for a moment, neither of us moved. The air felt thick, charged with something unspoken.

Then, as if realizing the awkwardness, he sat up quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry. Guess I dozed off."

"You think?" I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice came out sharper than I intended. I stood and brushed myself off, desperate to put some distance between us.

Asher stretched, his shirt lifting slightly to reveal a sliver of skin. I averted my eyes quickly, focusing on the coffee table instead.

"You okay?" he asked, standing now and watching me with that too-perceptive gaze of his.

"Yeah," I said, grabbing my jacket from the couch. "We're late."

He smirked, clearly amused by my avoidance. "You're welcome, by the way. For staying."

I glared at him, but there wasn't much heat behind it. "Don't push your luck."

The drive to the precinct was silent, but not uncomfortable. Asher didn't press me with questions like he had last night, and I was grateful for it. What happened between us last night will remain forgotten. My mind was already racing with the day ahead, the weight of Betty's case and the growing scrutiny from my colleagues—who however will be holding the case were pressing down on me.

When we arrived, Asher parked and turned to me. "Don't let them get in your head, Khloe."

I looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "I won't," I said quietly. I had everything to do with her death but that doesn't mean I'm going to say it to them.

With them on my tail, I can't stalk and kidnap that son of a bitch Robert. I have to find something to stall them—to buy me time.

So I can kill that dude and suppress the voices.