The rain began as a whisper, a few cold needles stitching the gray sky to the black river. Under the heavy concrete span of the bridge, Franz stood motionless.
He watched the woman. She was a ruin of a person, her spirit ground down into something fragile and small. Her eyes, wide and glassy, didn't seem to see the bridge or the dark water; they only saw the ghost of the man Franz had just ended.
"What should I do with you?" Franz asked, his voice low, vibrating against the damp stone.
The girl collapsed to her knees, her fingers clawing at the gravel. "Please... please let me go. I swear I won't tell... I'll forget everything. I'll go away. Just please..."
The desperate rhythm of her begging was suddenly drowned out. From the streets above, the sharp, rhythmic wail of sirens cut through the air. Red and blue pulses began to flicker against the underside of the bridge like a jagged heartbeat.
