I don’t even know how I got there to begin with. I was in a daze after the incident. I had no idea where I was going, what I was doing. I was in unfamiliar territory. I felt so weak. My stomach was churning, thoughts running through my head at a mile a minute. I honestly could not believe what I had just done. At the time, I hadn’t put jail into the situation. I just did what I thought was necessary, and that happened to involve stabbing the man I once loved through the chest with a knife.
I was in a daze like that for at least a half an hour. I didn’t give a s**t that it was raining, or that I was trespassing on someone’s property. They could go to hell, for all I care. All that mattered at the time was me. What I was going to do. How I was going to cover up. I didn’t even have an alibi. If the police caught me, how would I explain myself? I was drenched in blood, and I looked an absolute wreck. They wouldn’t believe me if I said I was taking a scenic walk through a torrential downpour. I was ********/> My wandering brought me to the front yard of an unfamiliar house. I didn’t care if they were home or not. I needed to sit down. It took several attempts, but I was able to lift my shaky frame onto the fence post, and sit there in complete silence for a moment, before finally breaking down. I couldn’t help myself. I was overcome with intense feelings of guilt and anguish. I had killed the only man I had ever loved. How could I have done something so cruel to him?
I guess I was being too loud. Out of nowhere, I was approached by a boy. Apparently, he lived in that house. I must have disturbed him. I was too involved in my own emotions to even notice him at first. I had that feeling that he was watching me. No doubt my hair would have stood on end, if it hadn’t been for the pouring rain plastering it against my skin. Several moments went by. Nothing. I knew he was staring at me. I could feel it in my gut that he was staring at me. There was also the fact that he was silent. The combination began to drive me insane. He needed to say something, and say something then. It was beginning to annoy me. The annoyance turned into tears of frustration, as yet again, I broke down. I must have looked pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.
Those feelings of annoyance were soon gone as reality snapped back in. I was no longer angered by the fact that this boy was staring at me. I was angry at myself, for doing something so heartless. I was not that kind of person. I wasn’t the kind of person who would steal, or get into a fist fight, at that much. I don’t know why I had such composure at the time to stab him in the chest, and continue to stab him until he fell to his knees. What sickened me the most was that I actually enjoyed it. It was like a burden being lifted off of my shoulders. One less person in my life to worry about. I no longer had to look over my shoulder for him.
“Why?!” I began to scream. I needed to break the silence. I had been silent long enough, to humor this boy. I could tell that he was taken aback by my sudden outburst. Maybe that would be enough to get him away. But why was I hearing the sounds of him walking closer?
“I didn’t want to kill him.” I kept eye contact with the ground. I was ashamed. “It’s his own ******** fault! He brought it onto himself!”
Still, he walked closer to me. The b*****d.
“What are you talking about?”
What am I talking about? Are you ******** blind? I don’t know if he was trying to reassure himself or not. I’m covered in blood and mud. I’ve been sitting on his fence for God knows how long, pouring my heart out. I just told him that I didn’t want to kill him. That should have been proof enough.
He still had the nerve to come closer.
That’s when I snapped. I didn’t give a damn anymore. This was none of his business, and I wasn’t going to let him be a part of it. This wasn’t his burden to bear. I’m a complete stranger to him. I’ve never seen him in my life. I’m not about to disclose every last detail of the crime I committed to him.
But there was one feature about this boy that got to me. The fact that he could speak so calmly, even in the face of a raging hormonal lunatic like myself. Any normal person would have run back into their house and called 9-1-1 on me. But he seemed genuinely concerned. After all, he still continued to come closer to me, even at my disdain. The tone of his voice. He wasn’t trying to sympathize or humor me. He sounded concerned. Inquisitive. I’m surprised he actually cared. If only he would stop staring at me.
I don’t know what it was, but I finally broke down. I sunk to my knees, in hysterics. I didn’t even know why I was crying. I didn’t feel like I was crying for myself, or for the fact that I murdered somebody. I was just crying. I didn’t care that I was crying my eyes out knee deep in mud. Nothing mattered at this point. I had this wrenching feeling in my chest.
I couldn’t believe my ears when he was STILL trying to beckon me to talk. And to get me into his house, at that much. He had the nerve to try to touch me. Like I would let a thing like him touch a creature like myself. Eventually, I brought myself to turning my face towards him. I got to see the face of my acquaintance for the first time.
He was tall. Extremely tall. He had to hunch himself over slightly to be able to reach for my arm, or to try to talk to me at eye level. He had beautiful brown hair, which was sadly plastered all over his face as he tried to reason with me in the rain. He had handsome, gently features, and I was immediately drawn to his eyes.
Was that him…smiling at me? How could he smile at a time like this? This was hardly the time to extend to me a softened gesture. Was he pitying me now? Now that I had let him see my face, was he pitying me? Of course he was. I looked like an absolute mess. That was the point that I began to cry again. I couldn’t hear him. I was blocking out everything around me. Whatever he was trying to say to me, I didn’t want to hear it. He tried to pull me to my feet, but I was in no condition to walk. My legs were shaking, and my uncontrollable fit was making it hard for me to even stand still.
I managed to open my eyes and see through the tears long enough that he had kneeled down in the mud, apparently wanting me to get on his back. He was determined to get me into his house. At this point, I had no choice but to give in. It would buy me time, if not for an hour or two. But that was an hour that would keep me from facing my parents, and keep me from walking past the body on my way home.
The next thing I knew, I was inside a house. A neat, tidy house. Everything was reminiscent of a stereotypical farmhouse. The sofa had a neatly folded quilt draped across the top. Tiny knick-knacks were scattered across the room. On coffee tables, the entertainment center, and tiny display cases scattered across the room.
It made me sick.
He dropped me onto the sofa, before sinking down to the ground beside me. It was a shame. I was getting mud all over the spotless fabric of the sofa his parents bought for the house. It’s his own fault, for dumping me here. Eventually, I came to my senses, and pushed myself to an upright position. I felt a little calmer for the time being. I guess I had reached my limit, because I couldn’t cry, as much as I wanted to.
I looked to the clock. Mike died an hour ago, at ten.
“Your name.” I heard him say. “What’s your name?”
I stared at him for a moment. The question caught me off guard. Should I tell him, or keep my mouth shut? After all, I don’t know if he plans on calling the police or not. I want to disclose as little information as possible.
“Mia.”
“Mia?”
“Are you retarded?”
“Last name?”
“I’d rather not disclose that.”
What meaningful conversation. An awkward silence had set in the room after that. He’s staring at me again. I swear, if he stares at me for a second more, I won’t be afraid to hit him. He’s judging me, I can tell. He’s taking in every inch of me, and coming up with his own conclusion, before I’ve even had a chance to speak. The b*****d. Men are pigs like that. I wouldn’t let him make assumptions about me. I’ll tell him what happened. After all, if he tries to call the police, I’ll just have to do the same to him.
“I had to kill him.” I said in a whisper. “I had no choice. I had to kill him. It was either me or him.”
I don’t know what came over me. I proceeded to tell him everything. Here I was, pouring my soul out to a stranger. What surprised me was that he didn’t look tense at all. He merely looked at me with soft eyes, and took in ever word I was saying. His soft expression made him so easy to talk to. I’d known him for fifteen minutes, and I already felt like I could trust him.
I sighed deeply, closing my eyes. "I can't believe it. I don't even know you, and I've already told you everything. You suck."
What an idiot.
