Her soul is still in the room

Julia's throat was slit open and the blood ran down her dress to her hips, down her thighs to the floor.
When you looked at her you would feel first sexual attraction. And then, realizing she was dead, the shivers ran down your spine making you reexamine your stands on the affair.
I was very cold. You could see your breath leaving your mouth. That's why everyone kept saying her soul was still in the room. And it wasn't supposed to be that cold. Not in the tropics.
Julia had always liked the gore. I guess she was into looking at her self after dead. I personally would have headed straight for the light, but Julia had always been different.
Her dead father was laying on the floor on the opposite side of the room. It must have taken hours for him to die. His hand was still on the knife stuck in his belly. And the floor was covered in blood. I wonder what he had thought about, watching his dead daughter, waiting to go himself.
Naturally we assumed it had been her father who had slit her throat and then killed himself. But we never really knew for certain.
That's why I chose to kill myself by jumping off the roof. You see, I was the one who had to do clean up in that room after they took the bodies. And I wanted to make the biggest mess possible when I went. This way the trauma of my death would imprint on whoever cleaned up the way Julia's death imprinted on me.
I wondered before I jumped if I would stick around, my soul I mean, and see my mangled body on the street.
I did. And curiously enough, I wasn't traumatized by it. I felt pretty good about it.
During my life things like that had always happened : someone else had an experience and I would try to imagine what they felt like. And then when I had the same experience they did and realized it felt exactly as I had imagined, I would feel a connection with whomever had had the experience.
I felt that way with Julia. And I hoped I would get to see her again.
Hope you liked the story of my death.
M.V.