Cold-hearted

It was the news article that gave me the idea - "Man seriously injured by falling icicle." The next time I had to leave the house, I looked surreptitiously but eagerly up at the roof. There was a reasonable amount of overhanging snow, but what icicles there were would barely be enough to kill a mouse, let alone a man. I sighed in frustration, my hopes of freedom dashed.
The following day however, whilst washing up, I looked out of the window and had an idea when I saw the cliffs at the back of the garden.

That afternoon it took me a matter of minutes to prepare and later, when he went out of the front door for his last cigarette of the night I ran up to the top floor and leant out of the window holding my 'accident' in gloved hands. Not because I was particularly worried about fingerprints, it was simply cold.
As expected, he was stood in the perfect spot and I just... let go. The icicle fell from my fingers, its sharp, pointed tip gleaming in the streetlight and then he seemed to crumple under the impact. I watched as my perfect weapon shattered into hundreds of pieces and started to melt away.
I waited to see if there was any movement and then slowly and carefully descended the stairs and picked up the phone.
"Help me, please," I screamed, "there's been a terrible accident..."