After swiping the forming sweat on his forehead with the back of his right hand, he then purposefully slammed the trunk of the car using it;
with his bruised left hand sporting a blood-stained knife, dripping crimson liquid, he nonchalantly whistled his way out of the scene,
leaving the vehicle behind which was fully covered with trunks and twigs.
Camouflaged with greeneries under canopies of trees, only the moon knew the horror hidden there.
Upon reaching the main road, he threw a last glance at the path where he emerged from seconds ago and said,
"Good riddance," he smiled.