You lay on the floor, not moving, not breathing. I am sat with my hands around my knees and my head tucked in, gently rocking myself so I can't see you. I don't want to see you, I know your skin will be pale, your once full lips will be blue, and your green eyes will have lost their sparkle and will be staring blankly into space. Your golden curls will be covered in your own blood which will be dry now. I wonder if your face is still full of fear as it was before, but I don't have the guts to look.
I don't actually remember how you died, I just know that it was me who did it, I’m sure of it. I remember blacking out as I made my way home from work earlier, then when I awoke I found you lying next to me on the black kitchen tiles in a pool of your own blood, you looked so scared even though you were dead. I tried to revive you, but you wouldn't wake up. Then I found the note, the note written in what I thought was my handwriting, and then, when I looked down at my right hand, I nearly had a heart attack. A small black pistol which I had been clenching tightly sat in my hand, and then I knew, it was me who killed you. Since then I have just been sitting here rocking slowly backwards and forwards trying to remember what happened, trying to tell myself it wasn't me, but I know it is a lie.
I haven't called an ambulance, and I haven't called the police yet. I don't know what I will say to them when I do, I don't want to go to prison and I don't want people to think that I murdered my wife. I sit up and crawl to her, her face stills looks terrified and now I can't stop looking at her. I close her eyes and kiss her soft lifeless lips, they are so cold. It pains me to see her like this. I walk away from the kitchen not looking at anything as I pass, and make my way to the phone.
When I try to dial the number for the police I am shaking so much that I miss dial the number and have to start all over again. Calm down, I tell myself, even though I know I cannot do such a thing, but if I can stay calm enough just to be able to call the police then I might be all right…for now. I breathe deeply in and out and think of the number, its just three numbers, nine, nine and nine, not so hard to remember, but after what I have seen I wonder if I will be able to talk to the police at all. Will I be able to bring my self to tell them what I have done? I don’t know but I have to tell them, I have to be punished for what I did to my beautiful wife, my wife who was pregnant with my child.
“Oh Amanda” I breathe to myself whilst re-dialing the number without mistakes this time, “Why did I do this to you?” A voice at the other end of the phone line quickly brings back my attention. “This is the nine, nine, nine emergency service. Which service to you require?”
I hold my breath and answer “Police” my voice is hoarse and shaking so much, I am having a hard time keeping it together. There is a strange clicking noise at the other end and then a man’s gruff voice says "We need your name, address and the incident please.” I breathe out and let tears spill down my face, I don’t know what to say but I have to say something. This is so confusing!
“I think I killed my wife.” Is all I can say, letting more tears spill free whilst I let out sobs and wails of despair.
“Sir, calm down, tell me where you are.” Says the man on the other end of the phone, there is no panic or alarm in his voice, just caution and concern.
I take in another deep breath “24 Water Street, London.” I put the phone down, sliding to the floor; I realize then that I have been holding my breath for quite a while now. I feel light headed and a little weak. I fear I am about to pass out, but, wouldn’t that be better if I did pass out? At least then maybe I will have a little peace before the police come for me.
I feel so weak and as I stand up with my back against the hallway wall, my legs threaten to cave in but I don’t let them, not yet. I stumble into the kitchen and sit down next to my wife, Amanda, her blood has dried on the tiles and even though they are black, I can still see the dark red shine. I look down at her fear stricken face taking everything in, I don’t allow myself to miss a single detail, I have to remember this look, this scene, so I never do anything like this again, not that I will be able to in a jail cell, but still, I don’t want to hurt anyone else. I kiss your cold, blue lips one last time and then I give into darkness.
I feel like I am floating, it is the strangest sensation I have ever felt. Whether I am really floating, I do not know, but I like the feeling. Everything is strange, I know exactly where I am and I know exactly what everything around me is, the strange part of that is that it is the scene from before I blacked out and murdered my wife. I remember every little detail from when it happened, but it feels like I am reliving the moment, only it doesn’t feel real, it is like a dream.
I am stood in the car park at Tesco, I know it sounds like a stupid place to be, but this is where I was when it all happened. I had stopped there on my way home from work to buy Amanda some flowers because i knew they were selling her favourites for today only. I was going to surprise her.
All around me are happy shoppers standing in front of the shop on the pavement waiting for their taxis to come and pick them up, people walk in and out of the shop some with empty trolleys, some with full. I am stood next to my black Ford Fiesta, I don’t remember why I bought this car, I hate it, but I can’t afford another one yet. I am putting away my shopping, bags and bags full of Tesco value food and other products. I should have blacked out now, but the dream, memory or whatever it is I am having, carries on. I am tapped on the shoulder from behind, so I turn around not knowing who to expect. I don’t know who I am seeing because they are wearing a tight black mask. They are tall and their skin is pale, they have a white suit on and white plastic gloves. It is the sort someone wears to a masquerade ball, it is so strange, why is someone shopping in a masquerade mask? Have they just been to a party? These are all the things running through my head.
“Do I know you?” I ask wondering if it is someone from the office that I don’t recognize. They don’t answer, they are holding something behind their back, I can’t see what it is but when I try to peer around I am thrown to the floor. I can taste the cold floor beneath me, it tastes like salt and it is making me feel sick, I try to pull myself to my feet but I am thrown back down. I lay on the floor, not moving, not breathing, trying to think my way out of this situation. I don’t struggle at all and wait for something to happen, for a security man or someone to run over and pull off this person, but nothing happens. I am beginning to panic now, and I am finding it difficult to breathe because I am claustrophobic and I feel like everything is closing around me. I begin to struggle again but instead of being thrust harder to the ground, I am hit over the head with something. Searing pain travels down my body, from my head to my toes. I scream a deep gruff manly sort of scream, I might be being attacked but I don’t want to sound like a girl. My attacker hits me again and again sending more pain searing around my body, it is horrible, the floating feeling is still there but the pain just makes it feel threatening, like it will help destroy me. I feel terrible, I can feel blood on the top of my head, it is warm and making me feel sick. I don’t know how much longer I will be able to survive, but I don’t need to stay awake because this is just a dream, or a memory. Wait! If this is a memory, then maybe I didn’t kill my wife, maybe I was beaten and then set up. It has to be what happened! I close my eyes and give in to the darkness once again.
I awake bleary eyed and in a lot of pain. I am staring at the kitchen ceiling, I have never noticed before how many cracks it has in it but that is not important right now. What is important is that the police are on their way to my house, about to lock me up for something I may not have done. I haven’t got a lot of evidence to prove my innocence only what could have been a dream or a memory of myself being attacked before I blacked out. I jump to my feet and fall over again when a sharp shooting pain erupts from my head. I curse as I stand up once more, this time being careful so that I don’t hurt myself again. Why do I have to feel the pain now? Oh well no point moaning about it. I take one last look at my beautiful wife and walk out of the kitchen door and upstairs to the bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror. I am a tall man, about six foot five, I have short black hair which is all messed, and my eyes are dark brown, or hazel, whichever you want to call it. My skin is pale and pasty and my eyes have bags under them, I have dried blood in my hair but I don’t have time to have a shower, the police will be almost here now. I try to brush the blood out of my hair but it is stuck and won’t come out, I wince in pain as the black brush touches the back of my head, I touch where the brush is and wince again. It was definitely a memory, on the back of my head is a huge red lump, in the middle of the lump is a huge slice and a lot of dried blood. I am sure of it now; I did not kill my wife.
I hear sirens in the distance, I don’t have long to get away now. I run into my bedroom grabbing my wallet and my wife’s old purse, I take out the money from each and a small picture of Amanda in which she looks so beautiful and happy. I then run for the door and into the landing. The sirens are extremely loud now and constantly getting louder, I run out of the back door and through the alley, onto a back street where I hope I will not be seen. This is it, I am now on the run, but it is not I who should be running, it is my attacker, my wife’s murderer. I am coming for him, I will find out who he is even if it takes me all my life, and I will kill him. I am full of rage, despair and pain. I am no longer the man I used to be.