The air always tastes better when you know that the option to walk in the outdoors won't be taken away from you. That's how I felt, that sunny autumn day as I strolled about the cemetery; wending my way around mausoleums and gravemarkers carved into avenging angels and weeping cherubim. Free.
I was visiting Amy's final resting place, guilt sitting like a stone in my heart, tears choking me. I hadn't been here since that awful night. A night my mind shied away from, during the day, only to spend a morbid amount of time going over and over the details, replaying them in Super High-Definition and Slow-Motion.
The brief time I spent in a holding cell and then under house-arrest were the worst. I saw no one, people avoided my like a pariah. I suppose it was just punishment.... I mean, look what I had done.
My final conviction was to be let off, citing that I had already served my sentence in the brief time it took to bring me to trial.
My mouth quirked into a small smile, what an ambiguous sentence. How long does it take to serve that? When was it over? When a judge said so? Or when my mind forgot the planes of Amy's face?
When I wasn't nocturnally tormented by the futility of my actions. Actions made with the best of intentions, with the most disasterous of results. Oh well, you know what they say about good intentions.....
I finally made it to Amy's grave, the marker still shiny and my heart clenched painfully. Tears came unbidden to my eyes as I stood there, the sun shining brightly down on me. For a minute, I hated the sun, hated that it warmed me, held me close. I wished for clouds, heavy and pregnant, the kind that would loose a torrential rain. That's how I felt.
I stood there, for what seemed like ages, before I noticed that the sun was gone. I laid the flowers I had brought across the headstone, kissed my fingers, laying them gently over her name.
"I miss you," I whispered, emotion making the words tight and gravelly.
"You killed her, you have no right to miss her."
I looked up at the words spoken with such loathing. Only to find Amy's mother standing behind me.