I knew she didn't kill Abe

She looked up, and her blue eyes locked on to mine. They held confusion and fear. "I didn't kill him!" she gasped. "You have to believe me!"

This is from The One-Minute Writer, prompting readers to finish this story:

 

     I knew she didn't kill Abe. Even though I could see in her eyes that she deeply believed she did, I knew she didn't. Even Abe knew she didn't. I was amazed I was able to refrain from rolling my eyes.

     I assured her that everything would be okay, that I would take care of the "mess", and ushered out of the apartment. I stood over Abe in pure disgust, taking in all the blood mixed among the dinner half prepared. An accident in the kitchen, of course.

     I kicked him fiercely in the side as he began to stir. I reached down and pulled out the knife that was embedded in his chest, watching the wound heal before my eyes.

     His eyes popped open as he leapt to his feet, brushing pieces of carrots and broccoli from his suite jacket.

     "Your death? That is how you break up with her?" I asked incredulously. Not that I am at all surprised.

     "Eh, she was a bit on the crazy side, it was bound to happen at some point," Abe playfully grinned from ear to ear, revealing the fangs he managed to keep hidden from her for the past four months.

     I turned to walk out the door wondering why I even agreed to stop by.
     "You gonna leave me to clean this up myself?" He asked in a panic.

     "Yep, and you might want to hurry before she returns and finds your love rekindled."