Price Of Love
Entry by: writerSZGWAJNHNH
17th February 2017
Price of Love.
I’m wearing my orange uniform. Some would say that orange is an unusual colour for a uniform, however, when you are in a maximum security prison it is perfectly acceptable.
I have struggled most of my adult life with depression and anxiety. When I was thirty I became suicidal, my partner left me without an explanation. I came home to find her belongings gone and a note saying ‘Sorry’. The doctor said that I needed to go into hospital to recover. They put me in the nutters wing. I was surrounded by zombies. I didn’t care too much as I had free meals, clean clothes and I could paint every day. I believe that painting saved me. While I was in the nutter house I met Sally. I still remember the first time I saw her, she was sat at the window looking out over the city. I went over to speak to her, she was drawing the landscape, it was as beautiful as she was.
Sally was different to most of the people I had met in life. She was intelligent, funny and caring. She took an interest in me and made me feel important. Sally and I were from different lives. She would often mention how successful her husband’s business was and how they often took fancy holidays, attended posh dos. I had no family to talk about and certainly didn’t have the luxury lifestyle that Sally talked about.
After we were released Sally and I were inseparable. Sally introduced me to her husband Chris and their three teenage children, I felt part of a family and for the first time I felt accepted. To the outside world we were the best of friends, to each other we were so much more. We would hold hands under the table, sneak a cheeky kiss when no one was watching. The love we felt was passionate, strong, raw and alive.
Amongst the happy times there were some difficult nights, Sally would spend hours crying as Chris would tell her how he had spent the weekend away with different women and gambling. She told me how Chris had hit her, punishing her following an argument about his affairs. This was a common occurrence. We would lay together and I would soothe her bruises with my hand, her body would gently relax in my arms. I would smile my purpose in life was to care for Sally the best I could, her husband could give her luxury but I could give her love.
Sally came to me one Tuesday afternoon in June. I remember it so clearly as it was the hottest day of the summer. She said that things had become so bad at home and that she had thought about different ways she could escape. Sally was desperate I could see it in her eyes. She had reached a point that she could not cope anymore. She turned to ask me if I would kill him for her. I just wish she would have left Chris, I could have kept her safe. Maybe things would have been different. Perhaps not.
One night Sally arrived at my house with blood dripping from her nose, her eyes were swollen and bruised. I nodded, for the first time I agreed to kill Chris. I could no longer see the woman I loved in pain. We settled on a plan. We would lie to the police and say that the house was broken into. Sally would leave her gun at the back door, taking the gun I would creep into the house in the middle of the night and shoot Chris. I would then leave and Sally would dial 911 alerting the police to the crime.
The investigation into Chris’ death dragged out. The detectives grew suspicious and with endless questions. They pieced the truth together and within three months we were before the judge. I was found guilty of first degree murder and was sentenced to ten years in a female maximum security prison and would then serve a further twelve years on parole. Sally was also found guilty of first degree murder and was given 30 years in prison. The prosecution challenged Sally’s defence. They claimed that she had lied about being abused by her husband and she had brainwashed me into thinking that there was no other way out of her desperate situation other than to take Chris’ life. The judge described Sally as the mastermind behind the plan, the manipulator who had treated those closest to her with evil intentions for her selfish desires of being the sole beneficiary of Chris’ wealth.
From my prison cell I wrote to Sally, my best friend, my lover, my soul mate. I wanted to believe that everything that was said in court was a lie. That our time together was real, that she hadn’t meant for me to pay the price for Chris’ death.
I never received a reply from Sally.
*
Ten years on and I am spending my last 24 hours behind bars. I am painting my favourite picture and that is of Sally’s face. I understand that she lied to me, that her loving words meant nothing but my feelings were and still are real. The price I paid that night was my life. Without Sally, I have nothing. The friends I had are gone. The life I had built, destroyed. I have no anger towards her just love. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without her, my heart is heavy. This place has provided me with security and without that I don’t know who I am. I will leave tomorrow but they will take me out in a box. I stand and slip my neck through the noose I wrestle with myself while looking at Sally’s picture and then all goes black. I am finally at peace.
I’m wearing my orange uniform. Some would say that orange is an unusual colour for a uniform, however, when you are in a maximum security prison it is perfectly acceptable.
I have struggled most of my adult life with depression and anxiety. When I was thirty I became suicidal, my partner left me without an explanation. I came home to find her belongings gone and a note saying ‘Sorry’. The doctor said that I needed to go into hospital to recover. They put me in the nutters wing. I was surrounded by zombies. I didn’t care too much as I had free meals, clean clothes and I could paint every day. I believe that painting saved me. While I was in the nutter house I met Sally. I still remember the first time I saw her, she was sat at the window looking out over the city. I went over to speak to her, she was drawing the landscape, it was as beautiful as she was.
Sally was different to most of the people I had met in life. She was intelligent, funny and caring. She took an interest in me and made me feel important. Sally and I were from different lives. She would often mention how successful her husband’s business was and how they often took fancy holidays, attended posh dos. I had no family to talk about and certainly didn’t have the luxury lifestyle that Sally talked about.
After we were released Sally and I were inseparable. Sally introduced me to her husband Chris and their three teenage children, I felt part of a family and for the first time I felt accepted. To the outside world we were the best of friends, to each other we were so much more. We would hold hands under the table, sneak a cheeky kiss when no one was watching. The love we felt was passionate, strong, raw and alive.
Amongst the happy times there were some difficult nights, Sally would spend hours crying as Chris would tell her how he had spent the weekend away with different women and gambling. She told me how Chris had hit her, punishing her following an argument about his affairs. This was a common occurrence. We would lay together and I would soothe her bruises with my hand, her body would gently relax in my arms. I would smile my purpose in life was to care for Sally the best I could, her husband could give her luxury but I could give her love.
Sally came to me one Tuesday afternoon in June. I remember it so clearly as it was the hottest day of the summer. She said that things had become so bad at home and that she had thought about different ways she could escape. Sally was desperate I could see it in her eyes. She had reached a point that she could not cope anymore. She turned to ask me if I would kill him for her. I just wish she would have left Chris, I could have kept her safe. Maybe things would have been different. Perhaps not.
One night Sally arrived at my house with blood dripping from her nose, her eyes were swollen and bruised. I nodded, for the first time I agreed to kill Chris. I could no longer see the woman I loved in pain. We settled on a plan. We would lie to the police and say that the house was broken into. Sally would leave her gun at the back door, taking the gun I would creep into the house in the middle of the night and shoot Chris. I would then leave and Sally would dial 911 alerting the police to the crime.
The investigation into Chris’ death dragged out. The detectives grew suspicious and with endless questions. They pieced the truth together and within three months we were before the judge. I was found guilty of first degree murder and was sentenced to ten years in a female maximum security prison and would then serve a further twelve years on parole. Sally was also found guilty of first degree murder and was given 30 years in prison. The prosecution challenged Sally’s defence. They claimed that she had lied about being abused by her husband and she had brainwashed me into thinking that there was no other way out of her desperate situation other than to take Chris’ life. The judge described Sally as the mastermind behind the plan, the manipulator who had treated those closest to her with evil intentions for her selfish desires of being the sole beneficiary of Chris’ wealth.
From my prison cell I wrote to Sally, my best friend, my lover, my soul mate. I wanted to believe that everything that was said in court was a lie. That our time together was real, that she hadn’t meant for me to pay the price for Chris’ death.
I never received a reply from Sally.
*
Ten years on and I am spending my last 24 hours behind bars. I am painting my favourite picture and that is of Sally’s face. I understand that she lied to me, that her loving words meant nothing but my feelings were and still are real. The price I paid that night was my life. Without Sally, I have nothing. The friends I had are gone. The life I had built, destroyed. I have no anger towards her just love. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without her, my heart is heavy. This place has provided me with security and without that I don’t know who I am. I will leave tomorrow but they will take me out in a box. I stand and slip my neck through the noose I wrestle with myself while looking at Sally’s picture and then all goes black. I am finally at peace.
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