Tired. Tired and dirty. But it was over. She'd done the unthinkable. As if killing the bastard hadn't been enough of doing the unthinkable. She had been tired of him hounding her thoughts and dreams. She had grown tired of the walking nightmare, of the idiotic fears and fantasies. She'd paid cash for the shovel at an old Army-Navy surplus store and had driven to the graveyard in the dead of night. She'd had a chuckle at that - the dead of night. For all the cuts and wounds she'd given him, she felt like she was the one who was dead walking into that graveyard. And yes, she'd dug him up. Wasn't hard to do. He was wildly unpopular and his grave was well placed for robbing. The coffin was cheap, just like he had been. His rotting corpse was disgusting to see, to smell. It had shocked her that he'd gotten none of the usual treatments from the mortician. Maybe she wasn't the only one to have had some opinions about him. Amazing that a mortician would actually break the law out of spite. She'd decided to send that mortician an anonymous gift. The spade made short work of his skull and chest. And she knew it was over. She was rid of him and the nightmares he'd given. It was over.

Smiling softly to herself, she showered the last of him away. And she was finally happy.