Murder is too easy. Very therapeutic. It's the consequences that suit which hold the real art. Who would have thought that fourteen year old, quiet, slutty Veronica would one day turn out to be a killer, a vengeful killer? I'd never actually intended to cease him, hurt him, yes but end his life – well that part was a bonus. A bloody fantastic one at that.

What goes around comes around. All the anger had just been building up over twenty years, bricks of lies and bricks of spite, all cemented together to create a wall, a barrier, a mask deceiving everyone from my true murdering self.

I don't want to hide it anymore. I don't want Bradley Branning, Ian Beale or Janine Butcher to claim my glory, my victory. How very selfish of them. I want each resident of Walford to cower over my achievement, to crumble beneath my gaze, to know that I took a life away. But still – I don't want to go to prison and be caged by bleak walls, suffocating whilst knowing that life moves on.

Jack had told me that he'd understand if I did it. If he knew the truth would he be able to look at me and not see my blood stained hands? Would he be able to lie next to me in peace, without the fear of me clonking him one? Or would he just say "Well done Ron. I knew you could do it. I knew you would win."?

Roxy. Well, she'd hate me, no question.

How dare she? That bitch didn't believe me when I confessed that Archie, our father raped me. Her own sister, the one who's protected her all of her life, and this is the thanks I get? Just thinking about it makes my blood boil into inferno. I want to knock her off that fucking high pedestal she poses upon, ordering everyone about like they are her inferior. "This is my pub, my rules." But instead I keep it all under the hush hush, just waiting to pounce.

I wouldn't.

Somehow her laughter, the one she's owned all of her life, ever since she was a child flutters in my ears, wrenching my heart. I would never hurt Roxy. Never. Not even though our sisterly bond has been bruised and battered.

I hear an esquire of sirens and shouting from outside these red walls, I go out, investigate. Pretending I didn't kill dad. Acting like I'm innocent.

Ha. Innocent – I've not been that since I was six.

"It's Bradley!" Peggy shouts, her voice crackling beneath the surface of my skin. She was the one who brought the evil malicious dick back into my life. Should I be cursing her or thanking her?

"Oh my Lord!" Dot Branning sobs faintly, due to her old age and god knows how many years worth of cigarette damage.

I can feel the bitter air whip through my hair and the sheer coldness slipping through my black tights. It's freezing, it's freezing, that's all I want; I just want something to coax me out of this insane mind. I want freedom and silence. I need to be able to hear stillness and not reassurance that I loved what I did, so it is acceptable.

My mouth is an 'o'. My eyes won't tear away from the dead body. "Ron, they think he did it!" Roxy is unsure whether to cry for another dead man or burn in anger. "Bradley killed our dad."

My heels slap the concrete; I see the stones flick under my weight, moving on my account because I made them do that. Just like I made Archie plead. I'm practically running, lusting in the feel of biting air which knars in aggression.

"Back away Miss!" A policeman holds his luminous arm to stop me. I want to break it. I want that medal Bradley is wearing.

Jack is by my side as I fight the policeman off, he takes my waist and I adore the feeling. A flicker of love zooms across my face, but it is over before it came. I see Marsden, that interrogating bitch who let the real killer go. All clarity must have gotten tangled in her disgusting greasy hair before reaching her brain.

She's walking over to me, the policeman and Jack, who still has hold of me.

"Miss Mitchell." Her lips curl into a Cheshire cat grin, looking like the cat that got her cream. "Can you please refrain from injuring a police member tonight." She tucks a clump of frizzy hair behind her ears, revealing the bruise I gave her. She deserved it. "What are you so worked up about eh? Is it that you wish you'd killed your father? Or perhaps it's cause you're letting someone else take the blame?"

"Ron" Jack whispers into my ear, fleeting in temper over Marsden's accusations, never mind the grief that is drowning him. "Let's go, okay?"

"You sick bitch." I spit at her. "You're playing these mind games, interrogating a former suspect, teasing me, accusing me when there is a dead body just meters behind you! You sick, perverted cow!"

"Ronnie, I really think we should go now" Jack exclaims, very much aware of the audience encircling us. He tries to pull me away, but I am rooted.

"Actually, I'd quite like to chat with Veronica. And insulting a police officer...well, I might have to detain you for the night." Marsden presses, finally thawing the faults in my brick wall.

"She's just distressed, officer" Jack reasons on my behalf, I think he knows. "Seeing a dead body..."

"Ah, yes. Your daughter died not so long ago didn't she?" Marsden still wears that stupid smile. My knuckles are white in hot anger, my sinuses are on the brink of escaping and my heart is thudding so loud. Dad's heartbeat was fast, before I murdered him.

How many people can claim they have murdered their own father?

Not many.

But I can. I can say this.

"Run over wasn't she?" Marsden hits again.

Jack shouts. I can't fathom out what he's saying.

I just want the silence.

I want peace.

I need to stop the thudding of my heart which drums in staccato beats.

I want the pain to dissipate.

Dad; lying on top of me, his breathing thick and heavy. Him lying on the floor drenched in his own blood. Dad saying he was sorry to me.

A thousand regrets in my head.

Paranoia taking control.

My thirst for freedom.

"Pregnant? Who'd want to shag her?"

"Slut"

"Filth"

Murderer.

"I DID IT!" I scream, so hard that my throat rips. Jack's hand squeezes mine, he vows never to let go amidst his shaking breath.

Blurs of bright green Jackets swarm around me. Residents of Walford crowd like bees festering over delicious honey.

A huge wave of disappointment crashes over me, I don't feel an inkling of relief. I feel worse. Dad can control me better whilst I am confined to four walls. The four walls he and I had built together. Jack pulls me into a tight embrace, shielding me from the hurtful gossip, the barricade of police waiting to slap me down.

I close my eyes. Jack and I are at his flat, warm and cosy, free of any corruption. The only thing we worry about is what we will be having for tea. And it's just us.

"Veronica Mitchell, I am arresting you on the account of murder. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you will later rely on in court." Marsden is all too happy to snatch that line.

My eyes gulp one last glance at the Square as it mightily scrounges in drama. Jack follows me and the policemen, right up to the car. Through the window he sobs, he's lost two people tonight.

"Ronnie, I understand." My eyes are tearing, I want Jack, I'll have him over the silence. "I love you" He continues through the crying desperation.

"Jack, I had to" I sob, my hand clutching onto his through the gap of the car window. With all the courage I have left, I have to tell him, he needs to know why, he needs to truly understand and he's the only person I trust. "He...He raped me Jack. I had to do it. I'm so sorry." I search his face for disgust; instead everything clicks into place in his mind.

The car engine stutters, the driver begins to forward.

"I HATE YOU RONNIE!" I hear Roxy, the wind distorting her shouts. I sting a little, but not as much as I should.

Jack jogs with the speed of the car; once again he tells me he loves me.

"I love you too!"

The car has picked up speed and is now travelling through the labyrinth of roads to where I shall be sentenced.

Whoever said justice was fair?

I've not written anything for AGES – exams and a possible lack of confidence! I know this isn't my best writing as I am rusty (lol) so please forgive me. This isn't a 'descriptive insight', it is more of a 'see it as it happens' (if that makes any sense?). Please review, even if you thought it was crap cause I'd love to know what you thought of it :)

Thank you for reading, love Scarlett x