Slowly stepping out of these nightmares, I awake next to you. It’s only been a year, but I love you. Times are tough as they are for all, but we move forward.
Sincerely,
Francis
I stared at that sloppy hand writing for hours, wondering what it was meant for. So many clues, so little investigating. What was I telling myself, that I couldn’t understand? I finally decide its time.
Nothing could prepare either of us for the events about to unfold. My name is Detective Raven (retired), I fell in love, ten months ago, when my god damned legs still worked, but I was forced into retirement now, so I divulge all my story to you. Take it how you please.
We grew in fear, steadily, every night. I was a New York police officer at the time, so of course she would worry, but unknowingly, so did I. She never knew how much I really hated being a cop, but as the pay grew and promotions came, one tends to stick around. Validation is sometimes your only reason for living. It’s sad, but I’ll hold nothing back in this telling.
I wasn’t even a good cop, I was the worst, take money from crime scenes, murder for hire, things of that nature. Yet even in my darkest days as an officer, I feared being in my house most.
Sure, it was a s****y neighborhood, we couldn’t afford a lot with my drug habit, which grew increasingly expensive, and life threatening. Well acting as though we are friends, and we have a common interest I will proceed with why I’m here.
I speak clearly of my bad habits, or sins some would say, but I stand before you telling my side because I deserve to be heard. In complete honesty, I’m dying here, deep wounds from holding it all in, and letting her get away with it.
She was a troubled woman. It was very clear, not just to the family, but to everyone. Help was never an option. She claimed she came from abuse, but I knew her family well, and they were very well off, goody goody types. As we all have learned everyone has secrets. So I can’t help but to ask you to listen. For this can only waste my time, not yours, it’s worth being heard.
I had no problem supporting the vices we both had, but the demon she brought with her, you would’ve never seen it coming. I still ask myself what really put me here, besides my own miscalculations. I am very sorry, and I’d hope she is too, but please don’t let us cross paths again.
The night was darker then I’d ever experienced this night. I had a gut feeling, not just from the twelve beers, and you-only-knows cocaine lines. This was something else entirely. I was afraid, afraid of dying. I had never overdosed before, but this feeling was similar, mentally. She didn’t drink that night, or do her typical tie-offs and pass out by the toilet routine. She was stone cold sober, but her eyes screamed something else.
I was a cop for two years before meeting her, my best years I say. I did real cop things then. That’s probably what she fell for, not who I am now. But that goes both ways. We were a completion, for eight months. I loved how she called me Fran. Only my mother was allowed to do that. So this seemed different to me. Positive I suppose, a slow up hill climb, together.
So as I stare into her eyes this night, I don’t remember any of that love or completion. She wasn’t human.
How could I, a trained police officer not know better. See signs more clearly, I became a f*****g detective for Christ’s sake. Excuse my language, I just should’ve been better.
When I finally got myself out of her deepening glare, I mumble something. I faintly remember being angry, but not with her. For whatever reason the tone I took with her was not what she wanted. Something had been stewing inside her this whole time. Waiting to attack, to pounce on something.
She lunged at me scratching viciously at my eyes and face. I fall down to my back, and try protecting my retinas. She’s not a linebacker, but I was far from sober. This attack proceeded until I escaped pushing her off, and running to the kitchen. She followed just the same, so I grab a knife from the kitchens holder. She plunges at me again, and I hear her deflating whisper in my left ear. I knew I hit her lungs. I don’t know what got into her, or myself.
The seconds creep by through the night. I decided to clean her up. Changed her clothes, brushed her hair, then laid her icy corpse in her usual spot on the bed.
I lay next to her for what felt like hours. I was deciding to call the police or not. I felt it went to far. I kept a 9MM under my pillow. As I mentioned, not a great neighborhood. I grab it, and walk out of the bedroom.
As I’m walking down the hallway, I hear a faint moan. I peek in, and there she is my angel. My daughter. Nuzzling her favorite sleep apparatus. I do my best not to wake her. So I tighten my home-made muzzle to my 9MM before putting it to my temple.
So God, before you pass your judgement onto me, forgive me.
