Tears of Grief

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I couldn't understand why this was happening to me. What did I ever do?

I had been in my house, sitting there innocently waiting for my fiancee to come round. She was selling her flat, and coming in to live with me. She had to oversee the removal of her belongings, or something like that. I needed to go out for some food, and I had been invited round one of my mate's house for a coffee and a chat, so we in the morning we had gone our separate ways. It was 7 o'clock now, so she was due in any moment. I hadn't done anything that warranted  

But no, as I was marched to the police car and thrown in, it seemed I was being accused of something. I didn't know what. I started to worry. What had I done? Why was this happening to me? The officer had just demanded that I go to the station and answer some questions. 

Then I started to think of other people. My mother was elderly, and I was her only child. What would she think if she heard that I was in the Lock-up? And then I had to consider my fiancee, Helen. We were due to be married on Friday. What would she think if I got locked-up?

All in all, I was not in high spirit as the Police car made it's way down to the Station.

When we got there, none of my questions were answered. I was thrust into a darkened room, lit by a single dusty light bulb. It was just like those films. It was just as dreadful- but for a different reason. This time, I felt genuine fear.

I was left sitting there for what felt like years, years as my heart fluttered in my breast and my memory worked in overdrive. I had never stolen anything. I hadn't seen any break-ins. there had been no reports of a fire or anything like that in the newspaper yesterday. So why the hell was I here?

Finally, a man walked into the darkened room.

"Do you know why you are here?" he asked. I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. The man's eyes narrowed. He sat down.

"I think you do. Answer me when I'm talking to you, boy." 

This ignited a small spark of defiance within me- I was 27, after all. I hadn't been called boy for years.

"I don't know why I'm here, so can you stop the tough boy act and tell me?" I had a sudden feeling within myself, a small glow of pride. The man stared at me for a few second, then threw a pair of photographs in front of me. I looked down at them suspiciously. One of them was face-down, so I picked up the one looking up. I felt a stab of revulsion. It showed a body with a knife wound in her back. 

Struggling to hold back bile, I looked back up at the officer who stood with an impassive look on his face.

"What does this have to do with me?" I asked. He said nothing, just gestured at the next photo. Fighting back a feeling of trepidation and pure fear, I picked up the photo with trembling fingers. I looked at it- and felt my entire world collapse and fall around me.

It showed the victim's face. And I recognised her.

It was Helen, my fiancée.

I flung the photo away, almost as if I wasn't looking at it any more it wouldn't come true. I stumbled to a corner and retched.

Helen. The person I loved. My fiancee...

Dead.

The officer crouched beside me. I felt his hot breath filtering my ear, and all I wanted to do then was to either run- or to punch., I had never felt felt hatred for another person like I did now- but I was too weak to do either of those things. I could just kneel here and listen to this mean as he said that...

"You killed her."

"No."

"It's true. You killed her, didn't you?"

"No."

The officer stood up, his face set in hard lines. "We can't prove it- yet. But you are our prime subject."

The police never proved that I was the killer, and they never could. But my world was over now. All my friends whispered behind my back, I got threatening messages through my letterbox, people would paint words like 'Murderer' on my door. My mother died a month after Helen did. She was my only family. I had no friends, no family, no nothing. All I had was the grief, the tears and the pain. So much pain...

My life was no longer worth living anymore. The world had chosen e, and I could no longer take it any more. So hear I am, standing on a chair in a room with a rope around my neck. I no longer enjoyed life. The only thing I enjoyed was sleep. It made me forget everything. Death would be just like that. A long sleep. It was be less painful than life. I had nothing to live for anymore.

I kicked the chair away and it was over.