Raise Your Broken Glass

     It made me sad.

     Then it made me angry.

     Who is she to make me sad?

          "Richard, stop. Please, I'll do anything. Stop," she sobbed out as she collapsed down the wall and crumpled onto the floor.

          "Rich, it's me. Please, come back. This isn't you."

     I blinked.

     Violet was in front of me, bloodier than before and unconscious, half dead on the floor.

     Who keeps doing this? Is someone following us? They must have knocked me unconscious, beat up Vi, and ran.

     I can't call the police. They'll never believe me. I have a gut feeling that they did it, but there's no proof. Fuck. I can't just leave Violet here, by herself.

     I gathered her fragile, broken body into my arms and gently carried her to the couch. I set her down and walked away. I have to find out who did this to her.

     I stepped into her quaint bathroom, and began removing my clothes. A shower will hopefully clear my mind. As my bare feet made contact with the cool white patterned tiles, I shivered. There's blood all over me. What happened?

     As I went to step into the shower, I heard banging on the front door.

          "Richard Travis. This is the police. Open this door, or we will break it down."

     The police? Maybe someone saw who hurt Vi, and the police are coming to let me know who did it. I slipped my pants back on, and walked towards the front door. I looked over at Violet, sleeping on the couch in the crowded living room. She looks so peaceful. I turned the lock, opening the door.

          "My name is Detective Laurel. Richard Travis. You are under arrest for the rape and murder of Violet Handel. You have the right to remain silent."

     Wait. Wait. What? Violet is sleeping. She's asleep on the couch. Stop! Let go of me!

          "And anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one,"

     Are you listening to me? Why isn't anyone responding? Stop talking!! I'm telling you, Violet is asleep on the couch, look!!

          "One will be appointed to you. Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?"

     I was numb as they took my wrists behind my back and cuffed me. I looked behind me, into the living room, and Violet wasn't there, on the couch. No. This isn't possible. What did they do with her?

     They took me to the station, and I explained there must— there has to be some kind of mistake— she was just there, she was sleeping.

     The detective was angry, his brows were creased in frustration as he attempted to tell me what happened. Except, that couldn't have happened. It's not possible.

          "Violet was your girlfriend of 3 years, correct?"

          "No. She is. Is my girlfriend."

     I sighed. Is this some kind of interrogation technique? Telling someone that the love of their life is dead when she isn't?

          "Son, you don't seem to be following me, so I'll tell you exactly what happened. Violet tried to break up with you last night. She had moved back to London. She tried to leave and you got mad. You took the glass that your whiskey was in. You took that goddamn glass and broke it to pieces against her jaw. You smashed her against the wall, beat her up, and raped her. When you were finished you took a kitchen knife and stabbed her to death. After getting some drinks at O'Henry's, you tried to go back to the house and get rid of all the evidence. That's what happened. You're a sick son of a bitch, you know. They should have institutionalized you years ago."

          "No— no no no. Stop. That's not what happened. Violet isn't dead!"

     I looked up, and saw her standing in the corner. She was in her favorite baby blue shirt, but there was something wrong with it. There was a blood stain. It wasn't ice she was holding on to her side, it was gauze. I watched as the blood soaked through it, and I looked in horror as more blood began to pool at her feet.

          "I love you, forever," she smiled. She raised up a glass, but it was cracked down the side, and there were pieces chipped off.

     I blinked.

     She was gone.