Sanity

There is a thin line between sanity and insanity. Between life and death, between love and hate, between happy and sad. So many lines to be crossed and I believe I just crossed them all. With one gut wrenching act of bloody horrors. My mind a mix of emotion as I stand above the body of my now ex-boyfriend. I blink slowly, my breathing ragged. My teeth sink down into the soft flesh of my bottom lip as a frown appears on the smooth pale skin of my face, between my brows.

What have I done?

A thousand thoughts flash across my mind and skip away before I can even grasp one. The police sirens sound from the distance, letting me know they are on their way to get me. I don't care any longer. I drop the gun to the floor beside his body, leaving it there as I walk out the front door of his house.

My dark brown eyes search the empty street for any signs of life. But everyone is hidden, safely tucked away in their homes. The police cars pull up and as soon as they get out, their guns point towards me and I am told to put my hands up.

The demand is so foreign to me. Why would I need to put my hands up? It was only an act of defense...and yet, they already blamed me and spattered my name with the one word that dictates my fate. Guilty. My wrists were cuffed and I was hauled in for questioning.

They didn't understand what had been done to me, what would cause me to commit such a violent act? How could I do this to such a nice guy?

The answer was simple, one they didn't want to hear or even fathom the idea of being true. He was evil.

Evil in what sense, they asked.

“He was too controlling. If I didn't have everything done just as he had asked, he beat me. He wouldn't let me eat, and when he did, it was the leftovers from his plate, which were indeed crumbs.” My voice was scratchy, hoarse from lack of hydration.

I was offered a glass of cold water. I drunk it quickly, putting down the glass. It was refilled.

“Do you have any proof of what you are saying, Miss Evans?” The officer asks, a slight undertone of disbelief as he takes a sip of his coffee.

My dark eyes travel from his face to his cup and then his shirt. His coffee spills on his shirt, which causes him to curse.

“Shit....” He begins wiping off his shirt with a napkin.

I stand up, which causes all three officers in the room to tense. I look from each of their faces and then my fingers slide to the bottom of my shirt, I pull my shirt up just below my bra and expose my belly and backside to them. Purple, blue, black, and yellow bruises cover my once beautiful skin. The bruises in the size of his fist.

I hear a collective gasp.

“Miss Evans, can you please pull down your shirt?” The officer says.

I let my shirt slide back in place.

“You will be taken to the back and your information processed as we put you into our database.”

“Why?” I ask quietly.

His golden brown eyes find mine, and a light flickers in and out of his.

“Because you are guilty.”