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It hurts when she lands a hit, but I don't mind it. I just continue, pushing her to the floor as we tangle on the cold marble, hands in each other's hair.

We roll around until I'm on top of her, my fists aiming for her face.

"No more!" I rasp, a rage unlike any other coming over me. "I won't be your punching bag anymore," I say as I continue to pummel at her.

Ironic that I'm treating her as myownpunching bag, but after everything she's done to me, it's the least I can do.

Tears are falling down my face as I keep on hitting, her gasps of pain only fueling my rage.

One second of delay, though, and she has me flipped around, hitting me as well.

I close my eyes, wincing at the pain but struggling to get her off me. Mustering all the strength I can, I focus all of it in my legs. Bending them toward me, I take a deep breath and I push with all my might, shoving her to the side.

She's off me, her back hitting the hard coffin, her head banging on a corner.

I breathe heavily as I take a moment to get myself together, the strain from the fight getting to me.

But a second passes, then two, and I realize Cressida is not moving at all.

I turn my head around, and I'm greeted by Cressida's face, her unblinking eyes wide open. Blood is pooling at the side of her head where she'd made contact with the coffin.

"What…" I whisper to myself as I scramble to my feet, my entire body aching with pain.

I take a step forward, letting my hand move across her body, looking for some sign of life.

Searching for her pulse line, I find none.

She's… dead.

Open-mouthed, I stare at Cressida's dead body. A girlI'd killed. I look in wonder at her unmoving self and I feel… nothing.

No sadness, no regret, no remorse.

Just a deep sense of relief.

She's gone.

But what does that say about me?

I killed someone. Granted, it was someone who's tortured me my entire life, but I couldn't muster any type of regret.

What's wrong with me?

But as I stare at her, more and more, laughter starts bubbling inside of me. It starts slow. My lips curl up in a smirk as I look at her lifeless body, and then it erupts from deep within me. I can't even stop as I hold on to my stomach, still hurting from her punches. I just laugh.

She's dead.

Finally.

I take a while to compose myself, all the glee at seeing the person I'd hated foryearsget what she deserved spilling over. But as I calm down from my outburst, I realize I need to make sure she's not found.

For a second, my thoughts turn to what might happen should her body be discovered. I'd probably be sent to prison.

Is jail that different from this place?

For once, I don't care about the consequences of my actions. Either she's found, and I go to prison, or she's not found and the world willsimplynotmiss her.

I certainly will not.