I did it

If walls could talk, I committed murder. I did. I called out for help, but no help came. Nobody can hear me I have no voice or mouth. I would have rung for help but I have no limbs either. All I could do was watch her die. Have you ever watched anybody die? It isn’t like it is in the movies. There is no shouting, gasping, wailing, or begging. Death is quiet. A slight whimper every so often but it’s just quiet. I prayed and I begged for her to get up. Her friends were here Caleb and Josh, they saw what happened. They had mouths, voices, and limbs. They did not call for help. Caleb said ‘Oh shit’ with his mouth wide open, eyes as wide as saucers, face as pale as plaster and ran out the door as fast as his lower limbs could move. Josh was silent, his lips thin and eyes laser focused on her body, as if he forgot how to use his voice and slowly moved towards the door. I shouted at him to help but he didn’t hear me. Called after them but they still left. I’m so angry with them.

I look at her now, it has been 3 days and 3 nights, and nobody has found her yet. The blood has dried on the back of her head and created a damp pool on the carpet and her blonde hair was matted over her face. The downstairs neighbours from number 14 have been complaining about the wet patch on their ceiling but haven’t come upstairs. Why don’t they come? They argue with themselves and bang on the ceiling ‘quit running the water’ and ‘clean this up’ but still they don’t come up. Tracey's legs are twisted, her shoes have come off and her whole body is stiff, and her fists are clenched. Blood splattered on me and on her clothes. If only she had fallen onto the plasterboard down on the left side, but she didn’t. Poor old Tracey Mekin, fell right in the centre – pure concrete, hard as a rock. Thanks to the previous tenant Phil who fixed my holes with cement instead of Polyfilla. I hated Phil he was a small balding man, always angry, and never said anything good about anybody. He had lots more visitors than Tracey ever did, always coming around at any time of the day. I doubt any of them were his friends, far too angry for friends. Caleb was Tracey's friend pleasant, helpful always wore jeans and a t-shirt. A t-shirt with some random word on it, I think he made them himself. He had sandy-coloured hair and blue eyes; I think Tracey liked him. Why didn’t he call for help? He was her friend! They liked each other but he ran off, how could he? As for silent Josh, he only wore black and spoke in soft whisper. A slight effort of conversation was enough for Josh and he had no concept of time and would just pop around at any time of the day or night. Even if Josh called for help doubtful anybody would understand him, whispering isn’t talking. Tracey Mekin had only been here for the past few months, her favourite thing to do was to listen to music on her headphones and lean up against me whilst the TV was on with the subtitles running. The TV was still on as Caleb had put sound on, another game show had just started another chance to win some money. Ah, you see now, I’m a wall in-between apartments 23 and 24. The adjoining wall, is an important structure in this building of apartments on Crassy Green. I’m not so important anymore. I committed murder. So… here I wait with my friend Tracey until somebody comes.