Where Is The Edge

Chapter 2

Was it justice? Justice was understood as the moral principles that incline one to act and judge, respecting the truth and giving to each their due. What Peter Westerholt did to others while he was alive was not fair, the fact that he was spared any consequences was not fair either, and what did I do? Revenge, not justice, I knew that very well.

So, yes, it would be fair for me to be found guilty and then go to jail to serve my sentence after I murdered someone, but was it fair for me to go to jail and for that man to have been quiet and free after all? Life isn't fair, and they weren't fair to me, so I won't be fair to them.

Justice only worked properly when there were no privileges involved, and I was afraid of that.

It was Friday, I was supposed to work, but my boss insisted that I rest, and I didn't object so much. It wouldn't make much difference whether I rested all day or worked all day, I reiterate, the nights always ended the same, ten days since the interrogation were enough for me to come to that conclusion. Whenever I was about to go to sleep, thoughts would invade me.

I heard a knock at the door, pulled my sweater over my blouse and opened it without even looking through the peephole. An involuntary smile came over my face as I met the person I least wanted to meet again, but who I was also longing to see again. It was Marcia Clark!

"Oh, hello!" I greeted her, noticing she had a bag with her, "do you have news?"

She slowly shook her head, and I looked at her questioningly. So, she just wanted to come visit me, it was as if she knew exactly when to show up, because I needed to see her again, not necessarily for news about the case.

"Oh, no, we won't talk about that today," she evaluated me from head to toe. She wanted to say something, as I didn't look my best, yet she stopped, perhaps thinking to herself that whatever she was about to say, I already knew.

"How did you know I would be here today?" I asked her, already bearing in mind that the reason for her visit had nothing to do with this situation. I didn't want to know any more about it, however, I had to resign myself to the fact that this would take over my life sooner or later.

I made way for the older woman, feeling a bit embarrassed because there were dirty dishes everywhere, books scattered all over the flat and I hadn't even had a bath. Those were not the conditions in which I wanted to be met by someone as beautiful as her, not only because I liked her, but because she intimidated me, always neat and impeccable.

"I went to your workplace, wanted to tell you something, but they told me you were absent today. I asked why and they answered that you have been feeling very bad lately," she told me, later she placed the bag on the small table that barely had room for two people, "and well... I wanted to stop to buy you food, so you wouldn't cook today, I see that you are very down. I didn't know what you like, I don't know if you're allergic to anything or have any preferences, so I asked your coworker if he had an idea, and hell yes he did."

That action made me almost cry, I felt guilty for all the good I was getting in the middle of all this. First they let me off work to get some rest, and then Marcia Clark arrives to drop off some food. "Thank you so much, you don't know how much this act of kindness means to me," I responded, with a hint of weakness in my voice, "I'll put some plates out and we'll eat together, if you want."

I didn't have to ask her how she knew where I worked, for that's probably one of the first things they figured out before coming to my house to interrogate me.

She nodded, smiling at the proposal, "I'd love to."

I thought she was going to at least look around, notice the dirty dishes and not say anything about it but think who knows what, but no, she just went to open the bag and take out the containers of food.