As the sound of another explosion tore through the cold night, Grace buried her head deeper into the relatively safe haven of her arms. The freezing cold of the ground made her face feel numb. Still she could feel the stinging of the cuts and bruises on her cheeks and her lip felt swollen and tender. Her whole body felt cold and stiff and her leg started to throb viciously where a branch had sliced a cut all over her thigh. But she remained still and mentally gritted her teeth to push away the physical pain.

It was only long after the roaring sound of the last explosion had died in the night that she dared move a muscle. She lifted her head only a few inches and peeked around to make sure that all was still. When she was completely satisfied that it was all over, she crept up from her hiding place and limped out into the clear moonlight to assess the damage that her body had suffered. Her face felt bruised but otherwise fine. Still, it would make for a hell of a sight in the morning. The cut in her thigh, however painful it was, was only skin-deep and a combination of the cold and the time had stopped the bleeding. Carefully she peeled away the fabric of her grey cotton trousers from the wound. She grabbed a pair of black cords from her backpack and bit back the pain as she changed.
She opened a black thermos flask that was attached to the side of the little backpack and took a big swig of the mixture of black coffee and cognac.

Warmer now, and with the worst of the pain over, she turned to look at the blackened remains of the house she and Marc had once called home. She could still make out the floor plan and she let her gaze linger on the remnants of their cosy kitchen, the living room where at this time of night a warm fire would be crackling and she and Marc would most likely be enjoying a good glass of Merlot, while they dreamed and fantasized of the family they once would like to have.

As she turned away from the ruins, she shook her shoulders and brushed off the last of the dirt from her parka and took a deep breath. No more! She was in control now. She was alive, breathing and however physically and mentally damaged goods, that too would pass. Some scars would take longer to heal, but eventually they would. Grace was ready to embrace a new life.

She looked at the small gold watch round her wrist and saw with a surprise that it was only nine thirty. Little more than an hour had past since she and Marc had set fire to their home. Still she had to rush now. Marc was waiting and he would be anxious to know that all had gone well. And it did. Except for the nasty fall she made, when she ran from the fire, and which had caused her cuts and bruises, it all went according to plan.

She slung her backpack over her shoulder and made for the road. It had gotten darker still, but the cold made sure it was a clear night. The moon was high in the sky and made the hike through the woods easier on her. This time of year, at the end of the fall, the trees were bare and had shed all their leaves, so the moon shone straight through to the ground. In the spring when all the trees would be blooming, the trip would have been impossible to do at night without a flashlight. She had packed one, just in case, but hiking through the quiet and dark night made her feel at peace. And it prepared her for the task to come.

Halfway through the woods she heard the sirens wailing. Good, she thought, at least someone had alerted the fire department. They would be there in time to prevent any leftover fire from spreading. That was one of the things, if not the main thing, they had been worried about, that the fire might spread through the woods. The last weeks had been very rainy, so they had been lucky in that area as well. Still, it was a relief to know that it would be under control.

She sped up as she noticed that she was already an hour in her hike. Soon, she could make out the vague outline of a dark car through the trees. Her hands clenched around the straps of her backpack and she ran even faster. Marc was waiting for her by the side of the car. Even from this distance, she could see his beautiful features, stiff with worry.

As soon as he saw her, he ran towards her.
- “Grace, are you OK? I heard the fire trucks. Did anyone see you?”
- “No, I was out of there well on time. It all burned down. When I left, you could only see the outline of the house. Nothing that anyone could do anything with.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close for a moment before he took a close look at her face.

- “You’re hurt.” It was only three words, but she could hear the love and the worry in those words so clearly and felt a guilty pang.
- “Just some cuts and bruises. I fell as I ran from the house. It’ll all heal.” She managed to make it sound more casual then she felt.

She kissed him and allowed herself to be held some more. She inhaled the smell that was so him, a mixture of Old Spice, wood and sweat. She would remember that smell for the rest of her life, no matter what.

- ‘Let’s go.’ He began to turn to the car.
- “No Marc. I can’t, we can’t” She said it softly, but she couldn’t manage to keep out the grave undertone.

He turned back to her and she saw his expression of mild surprise turn into fear and then sheer horror as he looked at the gun she was pointing at him.

- “Grace, what…” He looked at her bewildered, trying to make out what had happened to his wife.
- “It was all your fault, you know. I just couldn’t go through it again.”

She didn’t wait for his reply, she couldn’t. If she had allowed herself to listen, she wouldn’t have been able to go through with it. So she just pulled the trigger and watched a tiny red dot bloom on his grey parka. He stumbled and sank to the ground, his face staring up at her in disbelief and, strangely, also a hint of guilt.

She knelt beside him, and careful not to touch anything, she said goodbye to the man she had loved for so long. Even death had not been able to take away the strength and handsomeness of his face. Sadness flooded through her and made her want to just sit beside him and weep. But she had to keep going. In a few hours, dawn would break and the road would be busy with commuters.

She stepped over to the car and looked back at Marc one last time. Then she got in and drove away.

One down…