Alone in the house, I looked out the window. There I saw the red and blue lights flashing through the rain as a siren could be heard. It stopped right in front of the big metal gate that sat at the front of the driveway. I felt a wave of what must have been fear, or anger wash over me. I took another step towards the window. I looked back again to see that the two police officers had gotten through the gate and were now walking up the narrow pavement guns in hand, badges gleaming in the beams of bright scarlet light. I looked back at my wife, sitting peacefully, as if nothing was wrong. I thought about my kids tucked into bed. What would I say? What could I possibly tell them that would excuse for my actions? I remembered the screams. The warm, crism blood running down my hands. I remember washing the blood of my hands in the sink. I remembered the voice of my wife, asking me what was wrong as I’d walked in the door. I remember tucking the kids in, the sense of remorse I felt. The sound of footsteps on the wet pavement grew increasingly louder. The noise infiltrated my ears, encasing me with the knowledge of how it felt to take a life. The noise of the heartbeat growing increasingly louder, only to stop. Crying, screaming, pleading, no matter how hard I tried to stop I couldn’t. I was overwhelmed with anger, the need for them to pay. Reliving the moment in my head, I tried to picture the moment I lost all my sanity, the moment I could never come back from. I remembered the struggling, the fighting. The memory was soon disrupted by my door being broke through. I was blinded by the flashlights being held beneath the guns now pointed at me. I heard nothing but the sound of a heartbeat pulsing. I felt only the sharp pull of my arms, my freedom being taken from me. I thought of my family. My wife screaming, tears running down my kid’s faces. Their bodies dropping to the ground. I couldn’t bring myself to recognize what I had done. I went about the rest of my night. I gave the kids a bath. I put them into clean clothes. I kissed their cold lifeless corpses goodnight as I tucked them in for bed. I’d sat down with my wife on the couch, as we watched our favorite show. I washed the dishes, coming upon the dreadful steak knife that I had used to ruin my own life. I couldn't explain it to the cops, it was something I couldn't even explain to my own self conscious. There was a pit deep in my stomach. I’d loved my family, I did. No matter how long I waste away in jail, I'll never know why I'd killed them.
Anonymous
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