Wrong Guy

36 | too coward to kill

SONG:
R.I.P. 2 My Youth - The Neighbourhood

Episode Thirty-Six:
TOO COWARD TO KILL

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L A W R E N C E ' S P O V :

When I walked into this place I neglected to notice the way that everything is so gray. The bars, the concrete walls on three sides of me, the desks, the hair of the men in blue that hover over them, the floor they walk on, the drywall they painted, their computers, trashcans they toss crumpled paper into, the smoke that escapes their parted lips outside. It only took a few hours to realize that this is all I'd be seeing for the rest of my life.

That from this point on I was as good as colorblind, that even if I managed to go back to the real world, my eyes would've forgotten how to translate the light.

The police officer told me when I came in here that until they investigated the crime scene, they couldn't put me on trial without any evidence. If they didn't come back with enough evidence, then I would be released from custody. In the United States, pleading guilty in court isn't the same as pleading guilty when you aren't on trial. I should've just waited for them to see me hovering over his bleeding body.

Then, they would have all the evidence they needed.
Then, I'd already be on a life sentence.

I wouldn't have to worry about being released into a world that didn't want me. Into a society that didn't even have room to house me.

"Law, get your ass off the floor, I'm waiting."

My eyes shot up to meet eyes I knew all too well.

"Carmella?" I asked confused, and she blew on her nail impatiently, "What - what are you doing here?"

"Did you not get my letter?" she questioned, turning to look at me. I quickly stood up to be at the same eye level. With six-inch heels on, and her wild curls piled into a bun at the top of her head, she was still nearly an inch taller than me. Her lips were pouted, a sharp cupid's bow directing your eyes up to her slender and sharp nose. The nose, the center of high, defined cheekbones, cat-like eyes, and dark arched brows. Everything about her was sharp, angular, and intimidating. Screaming for power, and receiving it without question.

"No, I got it," I mumble, standing up straighter.

"Then you know exactly what I'm doing here. Don't you?" she snapped sarcastically, "I just didn't know that 'here' would be police custody."

"You can't be that shocked,"

"I'm not. I just didn't know, that's all," once again, she turns back to me, but this time she has a genuinely confused look on her face. It's so unfitting, so unlike her. Until now, I didn't realize her features could be morphed to anything other than that of disgust and disapproval.

"Murder?" She asks.

"Attempted," I pause, "Attempted murder,"

She just stares, the same look on her face. It's not until now that I see the police officer growing tenser by the minute just being around us.

Silence ticks on for what feels like forever.

"You're far too coward to kill,"

I take a step back and stare at her. Facial features dead serious, as she looks right back.

"Really?" I ask, and she just stands there.

"You aren't even close to capable of murder. Being an asshole? Definitely. Murder? No."

"I just feel insulted," I comment, coming close to laughing.

"I didn't come here to compliment you," she snaps angrily, "And last I checked, being a murderer isn't something you should take pride in either."

"I never said - "

"Shut the fuck up," she growls, "I'm here to help you."

"I don't need help," I scowl.

She makes a scene out of looking around the room. Into the cell.

"I'm pretty damn sure you do,"

"What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"I mean, you aren't anything like the old - you aren't - what happened?"

"You did, Lawrence."

I winced, when she looked down to the ground. A few second later she looked back up at me, and I opened my mouth to speak.

"Don't say a word." She seethes.

I close my mouth.

"All I'm going to tell you, is to quit being a fucking idiot, and get out of this hell."

"And go back into the other hell?"

She freezes. A few minutes pass, nothing but the sound of a clock ticking backing the symphony of silence.

"Yes." she says, "That's exactly what I'm telling you,"

In that moment, one of the officers investigating my case came over with a stern look on his face, his graying hair and tired eyes evidence of a long day's work.

"We're gonna have to let you go." He says.

"Excuse me?"

"There's no evidence catering to the idea that you had attempted to kill Elliott. The doctors sent in the medical reports a few days ago, and your story doesn't match the damage done,"

"I don't understand, I- I punched him," I said, and I watched as Carmella and the other officer were escorted out of the area. She seemed to be unsurprised by the event taking place before her.

"You did punch him," he says, "In the nose,"

"No! I punched him in the temple, I saw it! There was a bruise and everything!" I'm angry.

I can't go back out there. I can't do it. I don't belong there.

"Yes, we are very aware that the damage done to Elliott's temple caused him to be knocked unconscious, but to our understanding, Elliott was punched in the passageway to his home, in his door frame. That is where his body was found."

I nod my head.

"You punched his nose, and when you are punched your head tilts to the opposite side of impact. His head was pounded to the right, causing his temple to be hit by the doorframe. He then fell unconscious, and it was when he fell to the ground, that his head was split open on the hard flooring." The police officer looked at me.

"We have no evidence to prove you guilty of trying to murder him. Yes, there is evidence of you hurting him, but a punch to the nose, is not the same as attempted murder."

I stare at him.

"We suggest you see a therapist when you are released." he says, before unlocking the holding cell, and guiding me to a desk.

I'm feel like I'm free.
I feel sick to my stomach.

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QUESTIONS:
What did you think of that chapter as a whole?

Thoughts on Carmella?

Thoughts on him being released?

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
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