A GOOD GIRLS GUIDE TO MURDER ( oneshots ! )

His Beautiful Girl

Mohan had turned on the news that morning as regular, drinking his coffee as he watched the TV. Ravi, of course, listened from the kitchen as he ate his cereal.

It was a normal morning. It would be an easy day.

And Pip would be coming over any minute, because that's what they had planned.

Only, it was in that moment that a chill ran up his spine — his phone hadn't chimed with a text from Pip, and it was already eight-thirty.

Pip was always awake by six.

It was at that moment that he truly heard the news reporter's deep voice coming from the television.

Eighteen year old Pippa Fitz-Amobi was found dead at Green Scene LTD early this morning after her mother had reported her missing.

Ravi dropped his spoon into his cereal, freezing, hands shaking. "No," he said, stumbling to the living room as they continued to talk about her - about his Pip.

His beautiful girl.

Her face smiled back at him from the television, but it was only a photo. That smile was one he would never see again.

Pip was gone.

"No!" He shouted at the television, his knees buckling under him. There had to be a mistake. Surely she was still alive, sipping from a third cup of coffee at the breakfast table, a tired smile on her face.

Pip couldn't be gone. She was a fighter, she couldn't have just been...

But she had been. Pip was dead, no, murdered, and Ravi couldn't change that, no matter how badly he wished he could.

Not again, his heart whispered, crumbling into pieces that had only been held together by Pip. She was the one keeping him afloat, and now...

Now Ravi had nothing. Nothing but two dead people who he'd loved more than anybody.

First Sal, his best friend and his only brother, and now Pip. The girl who'd found him and built him back up from nothing. The only girl who'd truly loved him.

Oh, not Pip. Anybody, but not Pip. Please, not Pip.

He screamed into his hands as he sobbed, begging the world to tell him it was a lie. Pinching himself, because he must be dreaming.

But no, this was real. It was all too real and it was all too much and how would Ravi survive this?

This was real and raw, and his hurt was a physical thing. A stab to the heart, a wound that would never heal.

"Please," he whispered to the carpet, shaking as he sobbed. "Please, not Pip."

—

One week.

One week with no texts, - though his heart filled with hope every time his phone buzzed - no calls, no visits, no Pip.

He was alone. How could he do this alone?

Somehow, even through the August heat, Ravi felt frozen. Cold, yes — god, he was freezing cold — but frozen in time as well. Stuck in a world where Pip was still with him, still messaging him, still calling him everyday.

In the one day he had left the house since he heard the news, he thought four different people were Pip.

Sarge, he had breathed, so silently, before he remembered that there was no Sarge. Never would there be again, because she was murdered, and Ravi still didn't know how.