Dylan washed his bloody hands and stripped off his blood streaked clothes, throwing them and his shoes into the washing machine. He was hurriedly washing up in the sink mentally deciding what to pack, when it occurred to him that he had no idea where to go or what to do next. His grandmother would be so ashamed of him. He would lose his career, his apartment, his car…everything he had worked so hard for, while he rotted away in prison.
Fear turned into anger, as he thought about everything he stood to lose. It wasn’t fair! Dylan didn’t mean for Rosa to die. All he did was push her off of him. It was an accident. Why should he have to uproot his life and be hunted down? Dylan wasn’t a murderer. If Rosa hadn’t showed up uninvited and started attacking him, then there wouldn’t be a dead body in his apartment.
Dylan closed his eyes and wished he could make her body disappear. Without a body, nobody could prove she was even dead. His eyes flew wide open. Dylan stared at his own gape-mouthed reflection. Why didn’t he just get rid of the body? He dried his hands and went back into the living room. It would be impossible get her out of his apartment, without anyone seeing him.
People in movies always hid bodies in steam trunks. Dylan didn’t have one of those handy. A sudden burst of inspiration set him into motion. He moved the frame of the coffee table to the side and ran to the kitchen, returning with a broom, dustpan and trash can. Dylan quickly swept up the shattered glass and deposited it in the trash can. He used a dish towel to remove the bloody shards of glass from the body and frame of the antique coffee table, tossing all of it into the trash can.
Dylan rolled the body up in the area rug, grabbed his keys from the counter and left her alone in his apartment, while he took the elevator down to the basement. He uttered a small exclamation of relief at the sight of the small flatbed cart parked in it’s usual spot. Dylan hurried past it to his assigned storage slot. His hands were shaking so badly, it took three tries to spin the correct combination. He pulled off the open lock and left the door ajar, retracing his steps to the flatbed cart and pulling it along to the elevator.
Back on his floor, he pulled the cart to his apartment and kicked the door shut behind him. Getting the body onto the cart proved challenging. With no one holding the back end down, the front dipped to the floor and the back end flipped up under Rosa’s weight. Dylan cursed, struggling to hold the cart in place with his foot. After three tries, he finally managed to get the body onto the cart.