Why I Did It

Question Yourself, Not Me

I can hear the sound of the lights buzzing and blinking as if broken souls haunt it's every glow. The weak and unstable run their hands through the cold ripe air of this interrogation room. A four walled space where stories end, break, and get told. They want me to speak up and explain my wrong doings. They don't understand and they never will. I don't see what is so wrong about loving the reaper. He held my hand throughout life and gave me the very thing I wanted. 

Love.

I am not crazy. I am not a murderer. I am a gift giver.

I gave people my love and the chance to escape the selfish reality of life. Society was so cruel, never caring about anyone. So here I am. Sitting in a room that only criminals should have to experience. Treated like a commoner.

"So Graciella, can you tell me where this all began?" asked the psychiatrist.

Laughing I answered, "What do you mean?"

He paused and then replied, "When did you first think of killing?" 

What a funny question. "I suppose it happened when I was a baby, but I can't remember that far back. I do remember the first time I killed. Would you like me to tell you about that beautiful memory?" I said smoothly.

"Yes." He answered.

"Well, I was about 7 or 8. Those were good times. I had made a friend at school. His name was Brad. Damn, he was a sight for sore eyes and had an amazing personality; for a kid anyways." I giggle and continue, "He loved playing tag and hopscotch with me. One day I invited him to come play on my new trampoline. My father got it for me on my birthday." 

The psychiatrist writes something on his clipboard and goes back to observing me so I keep going, "When he came we had so much fun. I tried to kiss him while we were jumping on the trampoline but he didn't reciprocate my feelings. He completely freaked out about my cooties. That's when I pushed him off the trampoline and onto the cement. I heard a crackling noise and he moved a little. Then he died. I didn't cry or scream. I stood there staring at his dead body, I got over it and went down to him. I kissed him. It was my very first kiss."

There was a long silence and then he said, "There seems to be no record of this. What did you do with the body afterwards?"

"I fed it to my cats and my friend Tiffany." I said straight faced. My friend never even knew she had eaten Brad. The police never even considered me as the one who did it. I know Brad liked me but was scared to kiss me so I gave him a chance to. The Psychiatrist must think I'm insane but I know I'm not. The way he is looking at me right now. Examining my every move, my every inflection of my sentences. He looks at me like I'm the most gruesome creature he has ever laid eyes on.

"I see... May we continue this discussion at another time? I must get back to the office." He asked.

"Yes, I suppose we can. I'm not going anywhere after all." I answered jokingly. He really doesn't seem to get my humor.

And so he left without another word. He didn't even look back at me. 

I guess this is what it's going to be like from now on. I will be the odd one out. I guess it's understandable since I am not what they expected. A high class business woman with a dark side. I was the most prestigious women in New York. Known for beauty, charm, success, and wit. I could've gotten anything I want. All except love and the ability to end one's life. I guess everything I had didn't mean much in comparison since I allowed myself to go too far with my obsessions. 

The cop in the corner keeps avoiding my gaze but I know he see's me. He wants me.

He may be hiding his infatuations well but not well enough. I might as well put on a little show for him. Give him a taste of what he is so hungry for.

I let my tank top strap slide down my arm and arch my back as I lean against the table.

"Can I bother you for something to drink? I'm so... thirsty." I say and then bit my lip. 

"Uh, yeah sure." He says while checking me out. "I'll be right back." He gives me a look and walks out the door.

A few moments pass and then he comes back in with my water. He looks so handsome and bothered if you know what I mean.

"Ice cold." He says and hands me my water making sure our fingers touch.

"Thank you." I said nicely. "So, do all the cops look as hot as you?"

"Ummm I like to believe I'm the most attractive." He replies. "Do all accused look as pretty as you?"

"No way, I am obviously the best. And what do you mean 'accused'?"

He smiles, "There's no way you could've killed that many people."

I look down, "You believe I'm innocent. Is it because I'm a woman?"

"No, it's because you look like a beautiful woman with morals. Like, do you expect me to believe a girl with such serene eyes to be a murderer who has seen pain and caused death?" He says while walking towards me and close enough to touch.

"Maybe." I say quietly.

He starts breathing hard and my body gets hot. I can feel the intensity as he explores me with his eyes. Like we are having mental sex. I have never felt so intimate with someone without touching them or killing them. He starts tracing his fingers along my shoulder and playing with my strap.

We both get interrupted when the door opens and another cop walks in. So he quickly moves away.

The cop looks at me and then back at him. "Officer Gonzalez, Captain said you can go to lunch." says the cop.

Officer Gonzalez. Hmm pretty sexy. 

He walks out the door and gets a quick look at me before the door closes. I lay my head on the table face down and groan. The one time I get a little satisfaction and fun in here, it's ruined by lunch. If lunch was a person, I'd kill it.