Rachel stroke her fingers through her hair. “Oh my God. What have I done?” she mumbled agitated. “Think, Rachel, think” She looked around. Then she grabbed Gabe’s feet and dragged him to the farthest corner.
She ran to the stairs and went to the keuken-, keuken where she searched the drawers for matches. In her panic she forgot she had been living here for about twenty years and the matches lay in the seconde drawer volgende to the cupboard underneath the sink ever since. She pulled it open and grabbed the matches. Then she opened the fridge and took out a bottle of Malt Whisky. She ran back downstairs to the body. She opened the bottle of Malt and poured its content over the body. Then she stroke a match and let it fall down and watch how Gabe went up into flames.
As she watched him burn a sudden agony fulfilled her body and she dropped the bottle. She fell down on her knees and felt her body contracting and convulsing while she screamed.