A/N: Not quite original... this is was an english assignment we had to do. We had to finish a story made by, Julio Cortazar. The story was called Continuety of Parks. This is my alternate ending. Rated PG13 for extreme violence.

Dissclaimer: I dont own the original story. I DO however own this story so HA! YOU CANT SUE ME!! HAHAHAHAHA!

He walked silently into the room, not once moving his eyes off of the green chair before him, nor the person sitting in it, innocently reading. He still held the dagger in his hand, though it was still in its little leather casing. Quietly he removed the sheath from the blade and gripped it by the hilt. He ran his fingers down the blade, cutting into his own skin on the sharpened edge. It was perfectly sharp, and the metal quickly sliced his fingers open, the pale flesh tearing open and flopping uselessly. He didn't even make a sound as the blood began to trickle down his hand and arm, not wanting to give away his position to the unaware man sitting just a few feet in front of him now.

He reached the chair, amazed that the man still hadn't noticed him, despite his hot breath blowing onto his neck. The book must have been pretty amazing to keep him so amused in these last few minutes, no, seconds before he died. Quickly he lifted the dagger to the back of the mans neck, slicing it through his flesh, just enough that it began to bleed. Oddly the man never once looked up from his book, not even when the killer grabbed at his hair, pulling it up like a piece of tape on skin. The hair and skin came up as one, blood getting mangled in the mixture as well. He finally let the hair go, once he had pulled it and the skin to the top of his skull, and he let the dead fleshy mixture fall over his face, blood dripping off the slimy underside of it and covering his body.

The white bone of his skull, dyed red with blood, became visible now. Fluidly, the killer took up the dagger once more, bringing it down hard into the mans skull, piercing through the bone and into his brain. Keeping the dagger in that place he counted. 1... 2... 3... The body began to twitch and convulse as the blood filled up inside his skull, unable to release itself from his head due to the dagger corking the hole. 4... 5... 6...7... He stopped convulsing finally, and only twitched on the occasion. 8...9...10... As if on cue, the body stopped moving all together, dead. Carefully he removed the blade from the mans boned skull by the hilt, letting the blood squirt out like a fountain of red whine. The book in the mans hand fell loosely to the ground, and the killer picked it up, satisfied with his work. He opened the book to the page the man was on, finishing the reading.

The killer laughed, and headed back from the house to go meet up with the girl. She smiled at him and upon seeing the blood that aligned his features she knew, without any words needed being spoken, that the mission was complete. It had been done, finally they could be at ease with what they were doing. But what were they doing? Did they really just kill someone to be together? How could that let them be at ease?

He moved over to her, dropping the dagger to the ground and taking her face in his hands, pulling her into a deep kiss. The questions seemed to fade from her mind as she leaned into his embrace, caressing him gently. Did it matter what had been done? They were happy now, and no one would ever know the events of that night.