Midnight Hands

Part I

We didn’t say a thing. We just lay there for hours. Our bodies gently touching as beams of sunlight tried to find their way though the curtain covered window. The faint glimmers that pierced the darkness illuminated your perfect silhouette and highlighted the contours of your beautiful, motionless, figure. “I could stay like this forever,” I thought to myself.

I washed my face, scrubbed my hands, bushed my teeth, and reluctantly got dressed. Standing silently at the foot of the bed I buttoned up my shirt and stared down at your crimson body. I hoped you wouldn’t wake.

Now positioned next to you, sat on the other side of the bed, I slid my feet into the shiny leather shoes I’d recently purchased, pulling the laces tight. I lent forward. Easing myself over you, careful not to disturb the scene, I kissed your cheek. I gathered my belongings, flicked off the latch, and disappeared through the door.

Part II

Dusty streets twist in front of me. The city air feels thicker than normal. A tender breeze brushes against my face, and these new shoes squeak as my feet guide me forward. I shudder from the chill blowing around my face. A feeling of regret suddenly takes hold. “What have I done? That shouldn’t have happened.”

Everything leading up to last night’s events seems perfectly acceptable. I’d thought about it a thousand times before. Played it over and over in my head. I guess some part of me knew it was wrong. It just seems that my desire to do something always prevails over the thought of the consequences.

“What’s done is done”, I mutter under my breath. “I must move on. Find something to distract me.”

Part III

I can’t shake the image out of my head. A pale frame clothed in that tatty Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Her long brown hair touching the tops of her shoulders, the ruby red lipstick, and a tight, gold nose ring. She might have been perfect. She was to me.

“I’ve gotta go back. I need to see her again.” Every thought making my head ache. “I’m just tired.” Suddenly I’m still.

The faint rhythm of a pop song trickles on to the street from a nearby shop. Busy businessmen brush past either side of me, and the earth’s rotation seems to slow.

There she is. Standing in front of me. I’m drowning in her goddamn smile lines. I stretch out to touch her. Nothing. I move to the direction of the road.


Part IV

She pushed open the door. Invited me in. Made me a drink, and asked me to stay. The scent of the room was hypnotising. “It’s too good to be true. Surely? I could never have imagined this.”

Visions of last night came rushing back as I approached her address. My hands were numb, the headache gone.

The walls seemed uncomfortably darker in the midday sun. I felt tangled as I ran my fingertips along the bannister and made my way upstairs. The creek of a floorboard accompanied each step I took towards her. My breathing became heavy. I bit my lip.

Stood at her entrance, I made my way in. The stench was unbearable. Nothing like I’d remembered. Her body lay there, still and silent. Nothing had changed. Her eyes were closed, lips sealed tight. The bloodstains were blacker as they dried in the heat. She looked painfully at peace.

My trembling hands that had once played God reached into my pocket. Reality had sunk in. She’s not ever coming back.

“Hello Suffork police, how may I help you?”

“I’d like to report a murder please.”

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