Years later...
I was unsure what to believe at first, with so many fabricated stories that floated around. The newspaper journalists were always fabricating stories, always bring nosy little fuckers, wanting to tear down people's lives just for their own entertainment and success.
But right then, as I stood there frozen, all I could think of was 'how' that one word, repeating in my head over and over again never seeming to leave me, never allowing any other coherent thought.
The empty eyes stared at the ceiling and I could still see shock on his face. His putrid cold flesh shone in the artificial light, and it only dug harshly into my self control.
It seemed unreal, a horrid nightmare. It couldn't be real. I didn't want it to be real, over the years he became invincible in my eyes. The man who could survive anything. But now I knew that no man can go through anything and expect to survive.
The sharp black suit contrasted with the paleness of his feature, but I was unable to look at him anymore.
She found out why her friend was killed a day later, and she finally felt a hot rage boiling inside her veins. This was all the fault of two people, both of which she has met. Gatsby has always insisted that they were not to be touched. Given the circumstances, and that he is no longer here, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She will deal with this the only way she knew how.
She was an assassin, and she promised that she will do just that. Assassinate the enemy.