I had just brushed my teeth and was about to head in for the night. Suddenly, I heard something break and went to the window.

“Not again,” I thought to myself. The neighbors were arguing again; their baby crying a few rooms from the scene. “It’ll be at least an hour before I get any sleep.”

I stood at my window and watched the fight; I had nothing better to do. Their screams were very audible, but unclear all the same. There were things being thrown around and broken in the dark house next door. I went to bed, for it had been well over an hour. The best I could do was try to sleep through the chaos.

Suddenly, I heard a loud crash, a faint scream, and then, dead silence. The silence grew and grew. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran to the window and looked in horror into the grey house next door.

He was on his knees, face in hands. Tears were very visible in his cold eyes. He began rocking himself back and forth, cradling himself in his own thoughts. I saw him stand and wipe his face clean. He was no longer crying. The look on his face was the look of a job needing to be done. He dimmed the lights and hustled a large, limp figure into a back room, out of sight.
Within minutes, he was dragging a white trash bag out of the house and down the side stairs. There were red smears on the sides and edges of the tightly tied bag. He dragged the bag behind the house with one hand, and in the other, carried a shovel.