Page 120 of The Secretary Volume II

I took them.Lined them up on the counter so she could see them.

Proof that she’d failed.

Then I returned to her side.

She was slumped against the cabinets, still breathing, eyes glassy.

She asked if I was going to kill her.

I said yes.

She didn’t beg.

That surprised me.

I put the bag over her head.

Plastic.Standard.The kind you keep under the sink.

I tied it tight.Rubber band first.Then duct tape.Watched her body shift from struggle to twitch.

She thrashed, but not much.She was already weak from the hit.I watched her struggle to fill her lungs.The bag pressed tighter, her body jerking, a final attempt at control.I counted the seconds.Not for science, just to make sure.Four minutes is longer than you think.

I watched her eyes through the plastic—watched them lose focus.Watched her mouth form shapes that had no sound.

I didn’t speak.

There was nothing left to say.

When it was done, I peeled the bag off carefully.It was strange, her slack features, strange seeing a woman like Andra so quiet, so still.

I checked her pulse—her wrist, cold, lifeless.I held it a beat too long, not out of doubt, but because I needed to remember the moment.Not for her, but for me.The finality.Her breath, her existence no longer a threat to my plans.

Her hands were cold.

Her mouth was open.

Her eyes were still.

She didn’t look sorry.

But she didn’t look smug either.

So maybe that was something.

I smoothed her hair because I know that would be important to her.Tidied up.Locked the door behind me.Walked away with the journals in a tote bag over my shoulder.

The street outside was quiet.Pink sky.Dry air.A man watering his lawn two houses down didn’t even look up.

Now I’m here.Drinking coffee.Picking dried blood from under my nails.

I don’t feel different.

She wasn’t the first.She won’t be the last.

But she’s the first I chose.And that, in itself, makes me almost happy.

I fold the napkin on my table into quarters, then eighths, then smaller still.My hands are steady now.They didn’t used to be.