If someone kills the one you love what do you do?

There she was standing looking at the world.  I pictured what she may have been thinking about.  What kind of things run through a prostitutes mind before they go out to play their game?1

Her dad had raped her as a kid and now she wanted her revenge and would get it by hook or by crook.  Prostitution had been the only way she had survived since she ran away.  They said her dad had suffered a nervous break down after her mother had died from cancer when Amy was 3.  Amy remembered nothing of her mother, but her dad had turned to drink and withdrawn from society.  Could a poor upbringing have lead to the crime that was to follow?2

It was no wonder Amy ran when the opportunity arose at the young age of 8, but now she was just short of 23 and had killed her last victim as he held onto his last breath she untied the noose around his neck and slipped away.  Matthew lay in his red pick up truck for hours until the police had found him.  I remember it well, it was a cold winters night and the snow lay thickly on the ground.  A knock on the door at 1a.m alerted me to the fact that my son was dead.  Shock had enveloped me and grief followed shortly after.  Whoever had done this would pay for the crime they had committed.  If someone kills the one you love what do you do? 3

The night was drawing in and the town called Amy towards it.  Amy was drawn to night life it had become part of who she was.  Everything she hid from since the age of 5 became lost in the night.  Amy drank at night it was her way of escape and through the day she slept in the deserted towers that had become her home.  Only the punters she played her game with knew her, but she never let anyone get too close.  The towers provided adequate shelter since she liked it that way.  As she walked the streets passers by scowled at her because to them she was just another prostitute out for her own ends.  I knew this was not true, but I did know that she was a murderer and for that she deserved what was coming to her.  To me, Amy was a girl who had got lost in life and I knew she was not happy.  I was the man that could take that pain away and I knew it.  I had the right motivation, she had killed my son.  I would not let her get away with that and in a way I was doing her a favour.4

As she stood there, brazen with a metal bar across her shoulders, the curls of soft brown hair across her face.  I knew that she would not have to face sadness for much longer.  She would not live to see another day.  Watching from a distance I saw the face that lured men into her trap.  Her eyes brown and searching she was a threat I could not live with.  It was not a hatred I felt despite the fact she had killed my son I felt in a way sorry for her.5

Of course, Amy did not know about me nor did she know that I was watching her.  The metal bar that she held to her neck made a pleasant weapon.  I knew that I had to grasp the opportunity. She had not known I was watching her and she did not see me as I stepped quietly up to her body from behind I grabbed the bar tightly against her neck.  The suffocated noises of her struggle for air were pleasing as I remembered the way she had murdered my son.  6

He was a victim of the painful life that lead Amy into prostitution.  A client she had called him.  My son, who had been too timid to find his own girlfriend and had fallen in love with a prostitute.  I remembered the first time he had told me about Amy.  His hands in his head with shame.  The guilt showed clearly on his face and I wrapped my arms around him and told him that I loved him.  Of a night he would return home and talk about her as though she was his only hope in the world.  As a father I did not want my son to see her, but what could I do?  I loved my son and knew about his obsession for Amy so I could not stop him.  Besides at the age of 28 he was already an adult.  An adult who could make his own decisions right or wrong.  For a parent it is the hardest thing to step back and watch the consequences of your child’s mistakes.  Yes, Matthew was an adult, but to me he was also my son, my child.  Nothing can compare to that.  If someone kills the one you love what do you do? 7

As Amy fell limp in my arms I knew that nobody else’s kid could ever fall prey to this murderers charms.  I knew I would have to live with the guilt of murder for the rest of my life, but I did it for my son.  Who could take that away?  Yes, I knew it was wrong, I knew that I was committing murder too, but I wanted revenge.  The grief that I had to face each morning when I woke up and all through the day.  There was no end to my suffering and knowing that my sons murderer lived was too much to bear.  How could she understand my pain?  How come she was not locked up on death row awaiting her destiny?8

There was no blood, it had been a struggle for air, but the pain was less intense than what she suffered in her day to day life.  I knew that she would not have to live through that anymore.  As she lay in my arms her white lingerie hid the fact that she was not a virgin.9

I stroked her soft curls of hair.  Looking into eyes that looked far away from this world.  Surely what I had done was not so much a crime, but an act of love.  I lay her body on the floor and  knelt down besides her.  The cold concrete hurt my knees and I let out a scream of pain.  I knew there was no escape, no way back.  As the towers looked at me I wondered if they could be my home.  Perhaps I could live as Amy once had in a world where nobody knew you existed.  I looked up at the sky above could God forgive me?  Could I forgive myself?  The sobs from my heart could not replace what I had lost.  Nor could the murder that I had committed.  I knew it was wrong, but if someone kills the one you love what do you do? 10