I could hardly bare to look at what I created…or better yet, destroyed. The fragments and pieces were finally coming together. But what did they form? A whole lot of nothing came to mind. Was this something more than a broken sidewalk curb, with her loops of red ribbon now wrapped around a telephone pole only two feet away? I think I'm going to get sick.
In the cold winter moonlight, I could faintly make out her red licorice sticks lying in the grass...only a tiny display of what had happened only moments before. The sirens rang out; they rang and rang but I wasn't there. My body: frozen to the ground, my mind: long gone. I was remembering the days when little stories of a turtle and a frog could make me happy. Now, my ideas of happiness have clearly shifted...and resulted in this. Was it worth it? Was it really truly worth it? The innocent painfully whisked away while I'm left to pay the price...I don't think a price can be put on a child, so what now? I think I'm going to get sick.
The officer gave me a glare that stung like acid. That look of disappointment, hatred, shock... "Who could do such a thing?" she probably thought. But as she sat there and sipped her coffee, I was the answer to her unannounced disgust. Me...I did it. And no one was ever going to have my back.
Everything is spinning...it's so loud inside my head...I think I'm going to get sick...
"Ma'am!" the last voice I heard. Blackout.