Fiction Write

                The sounds of her screaming, the distasteful manner; I remember everything. When we brought him in, he wasn’t smiling, but there was also no sure sign of grief to be seen by the naked eye. His clothes were obviously dirty from being worn for days. His hair looked tattered from attacks of paranoid rage. This recent event is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. At this point I asked him to start from the beginning of the story and not to leave anything out. The day I met her was the day I fell in love, and I loved everything about her; she had no flaws. Everything about him screamed that he was mourning. This is the worst thing I could have ever imagined. People think I’m going crazy, but I’m not. This man seemed to be changing his story a lot. Everything would change in the matter of a second; his mood, voice, facial expressions…everything. I didn’t appreciate his tone at certain points of the interview, but I guess I can understand what he was feeling. Nobody got me like she did, and I mean no one. I could confide in her about anything. She knew secrets that I could never tell anyone; especially you people. He was avoiding the story whenever he could; he didn’t want to tell me what really happened. So we were on our way to our hotel where we were going to be staying for the next couple weeks. She seemed to be avoiding a lot of conversation. Well, it might have been just me; I was nervous, for I was going to propose that very night. I was worried she might have guessed my plans, so I decided to do it right when we walked in the room. As he kept on writing he seemed to tense up a little bit. She refused…said we were going too fast. She also said she wasn’t rea-. His pencil broke. dy for a serious relationship. I didn’t believe her so I asked again and again and again and again. I admit I may have taken it a bit too far, but that’s not a crime. He was given a break and when he came, escorted by the guards, I saw him breathe a sigh of relief. This confused me; he was not even close to getting out of the tiny room; no windows, one door, and a two-way mirror. He was trapped. The room was stuffy and wreaked of desperation and sweat. He wanted out. I asked him to write down what happened after she said no. She decided it would be better if we took a break from each other for a while. I immediately came to the conclusion that I was dreading right from the beginning. She was a beautiful girl, and there was no way she could resist other men; she was cheating on me. Much to my surprise, he started crying…he kept crying for about an hour. He told me there was no concrete proof that she was cheating on him…he said that Satin himself had told him of these affairs. I went along with the story. He started to show more signs of depression and post traumatic stress. I inquired about her love affairs...she denied any involvement with any other men. I pushed her, kept asking, and pushed further. Still no budge. But I knew the truth; I had been spoken to, and it was a voice that could only come from the one and only Devil himself. He was definitely showing sure signs of paranoia and possibly mental illness. As this interview crept on, he was becoming more and more fidgety. A knock came at the door, it was my supervisor. I was told there was something I needed to know about this man…his fingerprints matched up to three other unsolved cold case murders. I could feel the blood drain from my face; I was locked in a room with a possibly mental cold-blooded killer. I could hear voices telling me bad things. I didn’t want to hear them, but I couldn’t help it... I was just told that they have new information involving the case…I admit it. The voices that I heard were ones telling me to kill her. My bodily self did kill her, but my soul was not in my body. You see, all I remember is that I couldn’t hear or see anything; everything went blank. I came to the conclusion that I was possessed to commit this act, and I thought I didn’t have to turn myself in. The love that I felt her for her made me absolutely crazy…I didn’t mean any of the things I did to her. The confession went rather smoothly. I think he thought we were going to let him go. We took him out of the room, he seemed relieved but he quickly sank his head when he found out where he was going. 

(Sorry for the confusing color scheme and points of view. It made sense in my head. I know it may not seem like this has anything to do with the song I chose, but it's just what i thought of.)