Day 16

Rewrite your story from a different perspective

So, as I listened to the replies that Mrs. Blank gave me, I was wondering how this could have happened. I call her Mrs Blank, because the whole case is sub judice, you see. I can’t tell you her name because it might get out to the press and that’s more than my jobs worth.

Who am I? I’m the person who was first on the scene. Terrible it was. I’ve seen some horrible sights in my time with the Force, but this was rare for a town as small as this one. I was the one who had to interview the neighbor. Fat lot of good she was, all shaking and throwing up. Can’t blame her, mind; it was nasty, and if you’re not used to seeing dead bodies, it is hard. The more so, because of all the blood around this one.

Still she did her best to remember and tell me what had led up to her being the one to go to the house, and what she found there. Her description of the smell was right on ; it did smell like rotten meat . Bit warm for a dead body to hang around.

Mind you, her information didn’t even fill a page in my notebook. It seems she didn’t really know the neighbor who lived in that house very well, except that she was pretty normal. My superintendent won’t be too pleased with that bit of info. He likes to have villains who are definitely villain looking, if you know what I mean?

I mean, who could imagine that a normal woman in a normal little neighbourhood like this, would go that berserk. Then walk off down the street like she didn’t have a care in the world – and that’s after asking someone to pop round and water her plants. That’s really being cool and collected, that is.

Shall we find her; well, we’ll give it a good go. I suppose she must have had a good twenty four hour start on us, so the investigation trail will be pretty cold by now. Yes, they’ll block the airports and the docks in case she makes a run for it to get abroad, but if it was me, I’d lay low and keep quiet for a couple of years,. Perhaps have a bit of plastic surgery and change the hair colour. It wouldn’t be that difficult.

Fingerprints? No , not that I’ve heard. Plastic gloves, I expect, and probably no clothes on while she was doing it either, that way then all the blood will be washed off down the shower. Oh, yes, they can check the water in the drains to see if it there’s any residue. Will they catch whoever did it? Be nice to think so, don’t you think. Whether they will or not is another matter, entirely.

What do I think?

I think the neighbor who found it will be having nightmares for a long time, poor cow.

****************************************************************************************************************************************

Josh,

I’m sorry but I can’t make tonight. I’ve just been really busy and I think I need some time to myself.

I’ll call you.

Mia

He was surprised to feel hurt bubble through his chest. It was not an emotion he was normally subjected to. That was something weak people felt and if there was one thing he hated, it was being vulnerable. The moment you let your guard down, that was when people struck. He had been stupid to let Mia in, he knew that now but something in the way she had smiled had made him think he could trust her.

One thing was for sure, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

He had had enough of her mind games.

The streets were strangely empty as he raced through them, or so he thought, blinded by his feelings. How dare she make him feel like this? What gave her the right to change him so? His life had been just fine until she had waltzed in. He didn’t want to fall in love with her. More than anything, he didn’t want to be who he was with her. There was something about her that brought out the worst in him, pushed him over the edge.

She didn’t answer when he knocked at her door but he had expected this – she never did. It was one of the many problems they faced. She always ran. Mia was not one to deal with a problem, she never had been. Maybe if they had found the courage to admit there were problems, to try and fix it, things wouldn’t be like this.

He shouted until his voice was hoarse, the skin on his fist raw from the contact with the door.

Only then did let his hand fall to his side, defeated. He could still feel it, the pang in his chest, as he trudged towards his favourite haunt.

“Back again?” asked the barmaid, sliding his usual drink towards him. The hurt had morphed with anger now. She had abandoned him, leaving him to face it alone. Why did she always do that?

He knew he had made some mistakes, still felt the guilt but he hadn’t meant it. He had been so frustrated at the way she shirked the issue; he knew it was no excuse but it was true. All he had wanted was for her to face up to it but no, she couldn’t do that.

She was too damn weak.

He had lost count of the drinks when a familiar song had began to play. It was their song. It had been playing the first time he had set eyes upon her. He had been transfixed by her smile, the honest look on his face. If only he had known how untrustworthy she could be he would never have taken that risk, made himself so vulnerable.

They were just two people who never should have been together. Putting them together had been fate’s mistake. It was like taking a lit match onto an oil rig. There was only one outcome.

It was only when he woke late the next day, still fully dressed and swearing he would never drink again did he hear of the poor girl’s death.

She was in the wrong place, he thought, a victim of a broken hearted man.