She closed the book and hugged it to her chest, closing her eyes in disbelief of what she had just read. This could not be true. It should not be true. And yet, she knew it was. She reopened to the page she had just read to reread, hoping her eyes had deceived her.
Her heart began to race and she could hear the pounding in her ears. A tear escaped the corner of her right eye as she felt a shortness of breath overcome her. She let out a whisper, “why can’t I remember that day?” She tried to regain her composure so she could read on.
Charlie Right lay in a pool of blood, face down, as police entered the home.
Donna Right stood over victim’s body with a look of confusion. When asked “what had happened”, Mrs. Right dropped to the ground in a state of unconsciousness.
She was reading a partial news-clipping that was taped inside the journal. Her head started to pound as she tried to make heads or tails of everything she was reading. NO! This did not happen, she didn’t know why or how but she was not a murderer. She couldn’t have killed her husband and she remembers someone mentioning that she killed her father, too. Oh, her stomach began to turn. How did she get in this situation? She had no memory of anything.
Lying back down on her bed, she looked up at the ceiling. The same ceiling she had looked at for the past four years, not knowing one day from the next. Half the time she was so doped up she didn’t even realize who she was. It wasn’t until the other day when she had a visitor come to see her, that she realized where she was or for that matter who she was.
This strange man handed her the journal and said for her to read between the lines. And he just left with no other explanation of anything else. What the hell did he mean? She read the journal three times and still there wasn’t anything she could understand. Just day to day writing about her life from age twenty-one till the day of her husband’s murder, a murder she refuses to believe she had done.
The lights were now off in the facility indicating the night shift was beginning and that meant her nightly visitor Russell, would show up to have his way with her. She was so drugged up she really couldn’t do anything anyway. But somehow, she knew she didn’t belong there. Wrongfully accused and labeled insane.
Russell entered the room as he did every night; he unbuckled his belt as he approached her bedside. It seemed like a dream and she was paralyzed unable to react. He stopped for a moment and took the book that she cradled to her chest. “You don’t need this right now” and he tossed it on the floor. Turning her head in the direction it fell she could see a piece of paper fall out. It was not the news clipping and she hadn’t notice it before.
She swallowed to endure the penetration that was taking place in her as she just stared at the paper on the floor. What was on it? Was it a piece to this mad puzzle of her life? Was it her ticket to freedom? She knew Russell wouldn’t be long, he never was but still she felt time slow down as she waited for her answers….
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Tai Vicari, Owner/Creator and Author of Tales from Tai Vicari, Nephilim Born and Rising of the Nephilim; Visit her at, http://www.talesfromtaivicari.blogspot.com/ to sign up and become a follower of her work.