She covered his face with a rug and checked her gun.
One bullet left.
Her own fault, but when she saw him, she snapped.
Screaming and beating him with a handy golf club was gratifying, but noisy.
It woke his new girlfriend and the dog and because of the morphine, her aim was lousy.
If he had stayed with her until the end, this would never have happened.
A spasm of pain racked her body, and she vomited blood.
Time to end this for good; one more bullet should finish the job.