These images flash in my brain whenever I close my eyes. A metal door. A girl in a red gown. Rain in a filthy alley.

I can't shut them off. I can't forget. I tried to drown myself in a bar, years ago. I couldn't forget then, I can't forget now. These memories of her are too strong.

She said her name was Maria. Her English was heavily accented. Her name wasn't Maria and we both knew it. I never learned where she came from. It wasn't something I wanted to know. Sometimes you have to walk past the detail; unseeing them.

We saw each other for a few short weeks. She wasn't pretty, the scars on her face couldn't be hidden. I wasn't looking for pretty, I was looking for a warm body to share the dark. I thought she was looking for the same.

Our last night together, she staggered through the door of the bar, already drunk. Her gown was soaking wet. We had no plans, I was confused. I pulled her toward the back door, out into the alley.

I turned to talk to her as the door closed. She said she knew, knew all about me and the other women in my life. She wanted to be the only one. I didn't see the gun until