A GOOD GIRLS GUIDE TO MURDER ( oneshots ! )

Heaven, I Hope

Her hair, curled in waves. The way he had liked it.

A black dress against her curves, matching lace at the hem of the sleeves.

Mascara coating her eyelashes, and red lip-gloss on her bitten, scarred lips.

Black pumps over her tights, runs through them.

Nothing could've prepared her for this day.

Not the dead pigeons, not the threatening emails.

Nothing.

He was supposed to come after her. This wasn't supposed to happen.

It should've been her, and she knew that.

But for now, Pippa had a funeral to attend. One that would ruin her, one that would take the already minuscule pieces of her shattered heart and burn them to nothingness.

She couldn't cry, though. Not yet, at least.

The car ride was longer than it should have been. There was too much emptiness in that car, even with her parents in the front and her baby brother sat next to her, holding her hand; already crying, himself.

There was too much space to think.

Their arrival turned heads, Pip sniffling as she got out of the car and walked past them all to the grave, where soon, he would lay eternally.
She stared down at it, choking back her tears.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Save herself to save herself, not save herself and lose her other half.

She winced as she lowered herself to her scuffed knees and read the headstone again.

Ravi Singh

January 17th, 1999 - August 14th, 2020

Loved by Many. A Friend to All.
May He Rest in Peace

Pip sucked in a sharp breath of air as she stared at the stone in front of her.

This was all he was now.

A murdered man. A body in a casket. Six feet under.

It should've been her.

But, no, this isn't how Pip wanted to remember him. He wasn't just a murdered man, or a body in a casket, or six feet under.

He was her Ravi, her person. Her other half. Team Ravi and Pip, only now it was just Pip.

But that's not what mattered. What mattered was remembering him: his lopsided smile, the dimple they both had in their chin. His shaggy black hair, and the way it curled just slightly. How he called her Sarge or Trouble, and how is brown eyes glowed gold in the sun. How his voice sounded; deeper at times, but not as deep as either of their fathers. His hundreds of I love yous, and the way he got along with her brother with no effort - they perfectly clicked. How his voice shook when he told her he wanted to marry her, and how he thought that three kids was just the right amount; but he was okay with more or less.

He was the best of her, the best thing to happen to her. Her soulmate. The love of her life.

What would she do without him?

She wasn't sure she could go on without him. He was her first and only love.

His hand on her back as he began to cry at his grave, though he wasn't buried just yet.