You must know to some extent what has happened. How could you not? There is much doubt in my mind you would be here if you did not. I am genuinely concerned you will not grasp what I have to say. If you could not even slightly fathom this tale, I would not bother to tell you at all. Although you did come to me, which is surprising in the least. I have my thoughts on why you came to me precisely, but those do not matter. What matters is the issue at hand; since I am certain that is all you want to hear from me. Throughout my story you may try to hide your reactions, courteously you will mind your manners. When I am finished my yarn you will gather your things, bow and politely excuse yourself, for you have business to attend to in the city. Yes, that is what you will do. I will not blame you in the least; most I have encountered do just that.
So doubtless, this diminutive assembly of ours will be most business-like. I see you are wondering how I do that, touch your very essence. Your debating if you are being too emotional, it seems your thoughts and feelings are leaping out at me. Wracking your brain you cannot remember ever being read as I can read you. How do I know these things? I just do. It is not you at fault here; I just know how you reason.
Forgive me for sighing. This whole quandary has been very hard on me, as it has on you and everyone else. I can see tire in your eyes and face, you are drifting away. Am I being too lengthy? Do not worry; they will not let me take forever. Please, if you wish to hear me out stay patient.
The day was perfect, bright and sunny. Yes, I know what you are thinking. Just like her. Always bright and sunny, that is always what I think of when I look outside, even to this day. You loved her – I can tell. Close your eyes and inhale slowly and deeply, do not let the tiny reminder of her take over. Stay calm. There. I will get on.
The wind shot through the crisp atmosphere that morn. Unknowingly it carried her soft cries right to me. I followed them franticly, what had happened? Was she hurt? I remember thinking if she was wounded, I would never forgive myself for not being there to protect her. Ironic, no?
She was hurt, emotionally hurt. Her eyes became large when she saw me, I read right into them – they were confused. Half of her was telling her to turn her heels and run, but the other half wanted to cling onto me and bury her damp face in my shoulder. The second half took over; she leaped onto me and sobbed into my shoulder. Maybe she did it out of friendship or perhaps habit. I always tried my best to take care of her. Always.
When her cries halted she looked at me for a fraction of a second, but nervously turned away. She loosened her grip on me and in turn I loosened mine. That's when it happened.
Yes, that.
Right there in King Penguin Park, yes, that is where she said she loved me.
That snapped you right back to me. Your eyes were wandering. You were looking at the big burly men who surround this place. I am not even sure why these distressing people even do. It is not like I would – or even could – jump across the table and wave a knife in your face. Still, they escort me in here like a common criminal.
Forgive me for laughing; I just realized my words. I am tremendously sorry for my interruption. I will get on.
"I love you." She said, simply. She strained a smile, and remained before me. Waiting for what she was expecting to hear. She did not get it, no. She never got what she expected.
"No." I said, I knew she was lying, right through her teeth. Yes, it was fairly dense of her to think she could fool me. One thing I did not understand that god-forsaken night was why she would lie, so I backed away. This was not the girl I knew, the sweet and innocent bright-eyed girl. No. It was not her, it was an impostor.
"I love you." She repeated, this time lifting her head from the ground and staring into my eyes. "I do."
"No!" I shouted at her, my eyes were damp and pained. She was doing it again – lying. Why? What did I do to deserve this treatment? I had always tried my hardest to be the very best friend. I did everything for her! Why, why would she do that?
"No! Why are you lying to me? I see no passion in your eyes!" I swear it, I only pushed her slightly. With my fingertips I gently nudged her. She looked at me briefly and somehow managed to say,
"I realized who was making you happy."
She fell to the ground. Motionless. She had never been this still since I had known her – never. I whispered her name, when I heard no answer I bawled it out and rushed to her side. So many times before had I been there when she fell, shouting her name. Every time she was eventually safe. I was crying when I felt her head – blood. I turned her face to me, her eyes were open. Lifeless. Yes, lifeless. She, who was always cheerful and full of life, now sits buried in the ground, lifeless. I have to live with it; it is my fault. I sent her to her premature and eternal rest. Me. I loved her and I killed her. No, I love her and I killed her.
Staring into her eyes I realized she would never shout my name in her cute manner again. I sped through the streets, that gloomy eve, screaming for help, I tried to protect her. Like I always had before.
Now of course, I am here. My opulence could not prevent me from coming here. I do not believe I deserve freedom anyway. You got the story from the most observant killers point of view. You will not let the tears fall, but they are welling up in your eyes. They are magnified by your spectacles. I also notice there is no pleasure in your eyes. I presume your happiness died with her; surely everyone else's did too. I am genuinely sorry for that.
Now you must have work in the city to attend to. I can tell by your jacket you are still attached to your wealth. Yes, I do desperately try to cling to my characteristic hobby. In here of course, it is dreadfully hard. Do you ever bury yourself in work to try and forget all this? I hope I have laid your mind to rest, and you will no longer toss and turn at night beneath your satin covers wondering "why." Please, remember, I truly never meant to be the killjoy.
Good-bye, my old acquaintance.