Pretentious Writing

Epilouge

I stared at what I'd done. It wasn't remorse I was feeling. The man had been plotting to kill my boyfriend, how could I feel remorse?

But I was going to go to prison. I'd never wanted this.

"You continue to cause me problems, even after you're dead." I told the obviously dead body of my father, like I was some kind of madwoman.

I quickly wiped the lamp down and retrieved my phone, retreating from the house.

I was gone before he was killed. I never saw anything. 

My dear dad made a lot of enemies. I'm sure it's plausable. 

And nobody has to know. Nobody has to know I'm a murderer. I can just live a normal life.

I've never been the murderous type, after all. My boyfriend will back me up on that, as will all my friends.

Yeah.

Nobody has to know.