Crime of Passion

I have come up here, to Greenlake Park, to commit the most unspeakable of acts. I have brought my father's pistol and I am ready. For weeks on end, I have been suffering the most horrific phantasms. Such horrible nightmares: the legs of a woman, laying under the thin veil of a white dress. I have no idea why I am being punished by God in this way, that I am being temped by Satan in the form of a beautiful girl in my dreams. To even think I would commit such an act, it's unthinkable. That is why I felt it was necessary that I must do this. Tell my mother and father it is not their fault. Although they were the ones who have shunned me for going against the rightful behavior which they have ingrained into my mind. But it is not their fault, this is a war of sin I have been fighting within myself.

I must also confess that it was I who hurt dear Winnie Jones. But I am no savage nor monster. I did not mean to harm her. It was meant for me to come out here all by my lonesome. She must have followed me out of curiosity or concern, it is very late after all. I was just about to proceed with my journey to Hell, barrel in my mouth, when I thought I saw an angel. Glowing in the dark night, pale, white. I had seen an angel who had come to take me away, or so I thought. But when I heard a familiar, high-pitched voice, I was brought back to my senses. I concealed the weapon inside my pocket, not wanting to be the cause of panic. I couldn't bear it, to hear her cheerful voice. Cheerful, yes, and sweet like honey. I needed her to leave. I had said: "You frightened me. Why did you frighten me?"

But she just began speaking: "Do you remember, Robert? You, Lena, Steven, and me. We would meet behind my house, late at night like this. Play house; you the father and I the mother, raising our two kids, and oh how the parents were in love—"

"Stop it!" I couldn't stand it, what was she trying to do? I made an excuse that I had trig. or chemistry homework to finish up tonight.

"We'd steal my father's liquor, and he would get so mad. Why not, Bobby, huh? For old time's sake."

I refused.

"Then walk me home."

I didn't say anything. In all honesty, I do not know what she said after that. I just knew she kept talking, a low hum in the midst of white noise. I couldn't go with her, but I wanted to. I wanted to look at her angelic blonde hair once more, but I could not. If I did, it would be impossible to complete my already impossible task. I felt a feeling conjure up inside of me, a heavy feeling. Very dark, empty. I heard her scream.

She let out the most horrific scream. I felt her warm blood and tears as I held her small face. I held her in my hands, so precious. Her face was distorted and nearly unrecognizable from multiple beatings over the head with the pistol. If it weren't for her blood-soaked yellow hair, she'd be unrecognizable. I held her for a while, I don't know how long. I wept as I watched her bosom rise and fall with every shuddering breath, and her eyes fade as everything stopped. It all just stopped. She would no longer cry, scream, or ache. That is how I want to be. How I am, when you are reading this. I didn't want to hurt her, she was my first love. I just wanted it to end, everything.