crimes of passion

 

Prologue

Dear Diary,

As I write this the tears scatter the page, a reminder of what I’ve lost. He was everything to me, my world, my life- everything revolved around him. That’s all gone now, ashes in my memory, a corpse destroyed by deceit. I remember his laugh the chorus of church bells angelic- like songbirds. But now that laugh is death, his eyes empty sockets, unseeing unknowing. His mouth a gaping hole, frozen in twisted agony. I smile maliciously, the flames of envy possessing me. He begs for me to stop, but I don’t. I continue ruthlessly, his face contorted in agony. Already the mark of death is upon him. But I don’t care, his pain, my happiness. Even though I know it is wrong I can’t help but continue. They say that two wrongs don’t make a right but how can I forgive him after what he did to me?

He turns to look at me’ why are you doing this’. I laugh and slowly caress his face ‘Oh you know’. I leave a lingering touch, jealousy scorching his skin- it sizzles. I back away and slowly expose one shoulder – smooth tanned skin. He glances fleetingly, a cloud of lust enveloping him. How could it be so easy? Did he honestly think I wanted him back? He smiles tentatively ‘that was just a joke to scare me right?’ I smile at him sweetly ‘of course, of course it is ‘I murmur .My insides are churning, the feeling of nausea envelops me. Lies. What has become of me? That sweet little girl now a devils advocate.

I walk, my hips swaying gazing at him intently. I take his hand and kiss it, red upon white, stained forever. He reaches out to hug me whispering sweet nothings ‘I knew you’d forgive me ‘I say nothing kissing him passionately- bloody desire. I pull the trigger.Bang.Hes dead, blood on my hands. It was me I killed him.

Guilty

Chapter 1

Scarlett

10 years later

Damp, the walls are closing in on me, threatening to consume me. I lay here, a broken shell of the past. The tears fall, the pity starts, my fist against the wall. My fingers crunch, a sickening sound. I feel nothing, detached from pain. My inmate groans, her sleep interrupted.’ For god’s sake can’t I ever sleep?’ I say nothing, there’s pity in her eyes too. She wonders why I don’t speak, why I do nothing but stare into space. She wonders why I’m here, what I did that was so bad. Every day she tries to get me to speak, to say something that will trigger it.But it doesn’t the trauma of that night paralyzes me forever. I hear her pleading with the doctors that visit,’ you have to help her’ she cries ‘this isn’t normal’. They shrug non committedly ‘it’s not our problem’ .She gasps in disgust ‘I thought that’s what doctors were for’ They look at her as though she is stupid ‘she’s a criminal- she doesn’t have feelings ‘She looks at me waiting for a reaction ‘that doesn’t mean that she should be treated like this, humans have rights’ But already they are gone and she is left humiliated.

 

‘Don’t you ever feel anything; do you have no feelings at all?’ I gaze at her blankly, feelings what are feelings? What is the point of them when your life has been destroyed? None exactly, I may have destroyed my past but I am not about to destroy my future. One wrong word, one wrong move and I’m dead, hanging like a dancer suspended in flight. I can feel the noose slipped round my neck, rough against smooth. The rope tightens, the crowd jeers. I gaze at the sea of faces before me, one last time before I live my last breath.

I can’t let that happen.

Chapter 2

Bluebell

From the moment I saw her I knew she was different, her eyes reflected loss and regret- glittering emeralds .But I didn’t know how different she would be, that her voice was a silent story, waiting to be told. She sits there deep in thought, serene like an angel, glistening golden hair fanned across her shoulders – the picture of innocence. She doesn’t belong here this angelic creature, a beauty so unearthly and eerie that it makes you catch your breath, long to be like her. But then that’s when I’m wrong, she’s here for a reason, a crime so terrible that no one dare speaks it. But I’m not afraid. This ‘angel’ killed in cold blood, a murder drenched in blood and torture. Crimes of passion they called it. They say that her boyfriend cheated on her, that she caught them and flipped. She locked him up for days on end, no food no water. The conditions were damp, an enclosed space, and mould patterned walls. Sometimes you would hear the scuttle of rats, sometimes you heard worse. If you believe the rumours, there were ghosts, forgotten spirits crying out to be heard. The endless screams an echo- there were voices ‘help me help me’ over and over again. Some people say she became possessed, that the ghosts were the cause of this. ‘Look at her’ they would cry ‘she is a victim not a murderer’. Then again appearances are deceiving.

What happens next is hazy; no one knows the exact events that took place that night. But we do know one thing. His corpse was found a week later, a mutilated body beyond recognition, criss crossed scars, battle wounds. She lay next to him, blood on her hands. They looked at her, her eyes brimming with tears ‘It was me, I killed him’. They took her away then, bound her hands, and marched her to the police car. That was 10 years ago, now all that is left is silence, she can’t speak, her body is immobile. She lays there paralysed by her crime. I scream at the doctors that visit pleading them to help her. They do nothing; say it’s not their problem. I thought that was what doctors were for- to help others. But I guess not these ones .They radiate a sense of evil, their eyes a pool of murky darkness. So if doctors can’t help her then who can?

Chapter 3

Mathew

I lay here, a rotting corpse, buried underground- a pair of decaying bones. I remember that day, the night I became dust, a broken soul-death. She was the one that killed me’ innocent little Scarlett, Poor Scarlett’ they’d cry ‘It’s not her fault’. So who’s fault is it then? Mine? Sure I’m dead why not blame me. Of course they do how could Scarlett had done anything, the ultimate role model, marred only by my death. But that stain is a speck, they don’t care what she’s done. Possessed by ghosts? Sure, why can’t they accept the fact that she is evil, a devil’s advocate, a flame of lies her crown. Pity surrounds her like a cloak of deceit, why do you feel sorry for her? Why I am not mourned and yet she is revered as a saint. What justice is that? But then I guess I am partly to blame for I was the one who betrayed her trust, who chose someone else over her. ‘I was young’ I cried, too immature to know the consequences of my actions; that it would be the thorn that destroyed me- forever. I never loved her; she was just a bit of fun, a rebound girl if you like. She knew this of course, accepted it laughingly, she agreed ‘What’s the point of serious relationships?’ ‘It all ends up in heartbreak anyway’. But I guess that was one of the many lies that she spun.

Now my identity is fragmented, remembered yet forgotten. My soul flitters restlessly, moving from place to place, I will seek my revenge…I promise.