The last thirteen years of my life were spent in the prison Freer. I was innocent. The only reason I survived those years was because I knew this. The prison Freer has two main rules: Don't talk or escape, and don't remove the collar they give you. The man who framed me is called Oskan, a man I once called friend.
It had been a long day at work so we headed to the pub after we finished. We had a few before a man at the bar stood up, and after insulting us, started a fight with Oskan. In the middle of the fight his mug of ale connected with the mans temple and he dropped to the floor with a thud. When he didn't get up again Oskan took my hand and we fled. I was the one who was caught. And gaoled. Even though I had done nothing. I saw Oskan in the bushes, hiding, as I was taken away. His eyes spoke. Bad luck.
I had escaped from the freer with only one purpose. Revenge. I went back to the town we had grown up in and resumed my work as a blacksmith. I saw Oskan everyday and spoke to him as if nothing had changed. But it had. The collar reminded me. I thought about a plan everyday, I wanted him to pay, to have his life torn from him as I had had mine taken from me. His family would be the first. I bided my time and talked to him daily.
His young son was always around the forge asking questions. Enough to get on your nerves. When I would place my finger under the collar to reduce its ever present chaffing he would ask questions. Why did I wear it? Could I take it off? Could he get one? Does it hurt? Itch? I answered him the best I could. I want to. Yes. No. No. Yes.
He walked home with me one night, across the marshes. As we walked our way away from the sounds of the town my fingers found they're way around his neck. His eyes widened with shock and an innocent disbelief. They pleaded me to stop. My fingers tightened and he struggled for breath. Gradually the life ran from his eyes. His innocent eyes. I threw his body into the depths of the marsh and continued home.
Oskan came to the forge the next day to ask if I had seen him. I told him his son had come around asking questions then walked home across the marshes. As I told him about his son I found my fingers reaching for the collar I had around my neck. I moved my hand slightly and rested it on the back of my neck. If Oskan found anything weird with it, he didn't say anything. It was time for phase two.
Oskan's wife was one of those rare females whose only reason for living was the home she lived in. She never ventured out, her home was always clean, the food was always tasty and at the right time. She was attentive and doted on their son. A wife to be proud of.
The day I decided to kill her started out brightly. Just like any other. I called in on her as a matter of business and was surprised to find that her husband was not home. The surprise I faked worked as she invited me inside to wait for Oskan to confirm his order. We waited in an awkward silence until she finally turned back to her work. Making dinner. She placed a leg of lamb in the oven and got out a saucepan for the vegetables. As she turned away from me I picked up one of the skillets and hit her across the head with it. Her body slumped and she almost pulled the vegetables down on top of her. I put her over my shoulder and carried her out into the garden and buried her under the vegetable patch that lined the fence. I had no difficulty as the soil had been freshly turned. I placed both soil and seeds above her. I gave her no last look and Resquim in Pace were the only words said over her. I washed my hands in her bathroom. I rubbed my collar as I walked back to the forge.
I worked at the forge for the next few days. Watching. Waiting. Oskan grew ever more agitated. His wife and son were missing. As he did not know I killed them. Yet. I kept imagining the look on his face when he realises I had killed them. Fortnately he came to the forge a few days later, and I could see the change upon him. If he suspected me I saw nothing to prove it. He spoke briefly about his sons disappearance, and about his wife. While he talked, I found myself reaching for the collar and rubbing it as it shafed uncontrollably against me skin. He took no notice of it and continued. He asked me questions about both of them. When did I see them last? How had they looked? Were they scared? Anxious? Nervous? Afraid? I told himt he same as I had last time. I told him his son had been round asking questions, as normal, then left. I also told him a little about his wife. I told him I had been round to see him and been told that he wasn't home, then I left. He believed me.
My plan was moving along now. Both his wife and son had been disposed of and while he seemed to be coping as if nothing had happened, I knew him. He was getting more distraught by the day, he was getting paranoid and was starting to break down. His death I planned. I waited. I perfected it and I waited and I waited some more. For three months I planned and waited. It was perfect. He was getting careless and paranoid, his increased security measures were wasted and his anxiety was growing. It was time.
His house was silent, dark. The stove lent no heat or light to the rooms, and the atmosphere stank of despair. There he sat. Oskan. In a high backed chair at the kitchen table.
"What do you want" he asked, a brandy bottle finding its way to his leps before being placed again on the table.
"Revenge." I stated flatly. "For the time I lost, the life I lost, for what I've endured." I raised my hand to my collar, and slipping a finger under it, ran across my throat, loosening its tight hold. The chaffing stopped for a moment before starting again.
He stood up and turned to face me.
"You have it." He said simply. His face was grey and dishevelled. He looked a mess.
"My wife and son are missing" he told me, swaying a little as he did so. "You did it." His eyes focused on me, accusingly.
"Yes." I replied my face trying to smile.
"Why?" he asked, swaying as he walked towards me.
"Revenge." I answered again.
"My life is gone. They did nothing wrong!" he yelled, his face flushed with emotion (and brandy).
"Good." I told him. "You know how I felt."
He didn't seem to understand at first, he looked at me uncomprehending as he slowly swayed on his feet. Then his eyes focused (a hard task) and he stared at me. "That wasn't my fault!" he explaimed, face flushing to a higher shade of crimson.
"You killed the guy." I shouted back at him. "You killed the guy and watched as I got sent to goal for it."
He stared at me for a moment, not swaying for once. "I would have gone to gaol if I had done anything" he confessed.
"And I did." My voice returned to normal. "I spent
thirteen years in gaol for murdering someone, which I didn't, while
the murderer, my best friend watched!" I started yelling again. "My
best friend let his best friend go to gaol when he was innocent, he
watched him get captured, and he was too scared to do anything!"
He
just looked at me.
"You let an innocent man go to gaol because you were too scared to do anything about it!"
He looked at me and laughed. "Bad luck." My blood boiled at that. I grabbed the brandy bottle of the table and smashed the end of it on the edge. Oskan just stood watching me, nor realising. I swing the bottle at his head and it connected with a squelch. The jagged glass bit into his temple and blood ran down the bottle into a pool at my hand. He dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. I tried lifting him but was unable to, so I dragged him to the bedroom and layed him in his bed. I washed his head and my hands before walking out the door.
I walked into the tanners the day after and used his leather cutters to remove my collar. It has served its purpose. Its cry for revenge had been answered. For the first time since my escape from prison I felt fine.
The End
Word Count: 1,617 Words