Kathleen

Kathleen was driving her new, used dark green jeep grand Cherokee down the LIW when she first heard the song ‘Just Dance’ by Lady gaga. It was a light hearted song about getting drunk and dancing away your worries, if only that were possible. If it was Kathleen would be down at the nearest club she could find drowning her sorrows in beer, dancing the night away. But no, Kathleen was smarter than that. She knew that was no way to solve anything.1

It was dark in and outside the cool car, only the street lamps and occasional other car to brighten up the deadly dark night. The radio clock shined 1:26 in an evil red glare. Kat hated the color red. It only brought back painful, soul consuming memories. A loud boom echoed through her mind. She shut her eyes in a feeble attempt to rid herself from it. It was no use as the boom echoed through the cavities of her brain once more. She turned the radio up, as ‘Just Dance’ was ending, in hope of drowning out the sound. Again, it was no use. The memory wouldn’t clear her mind. It was no longer just the sound now, the image was slowly becoming more vivid, the edges less blurred. Her brain was going deeper into the memory.2

She saw his body standing there perfectly still, leaning against the marble kitchen counter of his home. It was his eighteenth birthday, and he was eating another piece of his delicate chocolate cake. He noticed her walk in and smiled before going back to the cake. Her hands were behind her back as she walked closer, creeping upon him. He never saw it coming. He couldn’t have. She was sweet little Kathleen, the smartest girl in the senior class, she volunteered after school and in the summer, she was nice to everyone. Most of all she was his girlfriend. But he had taken it to far this time. He had beaten her so bad she ended up in the hospital. She had to lie to her parents and friends saying she had fallen down the stairs at his house. It was very believable. She was clumsy and his house had four floors.3

When there was only a few feet between them she quickly reviled the gun from behind her back. His eyes widened and the fork fell from his hand, clattering along the white linoleum of the kitchen floor. She didn’t give him time to beg. She cocked the gun and pulled the trigger. The loud bang went off and he hit the floor with a loud, sickening thud. Kathleen didn’t feel an ounce of guilt, not yet. Instead happiness flowed through her, washing every inch of her body. She knew she had to get out of there before the neighbors called the police. She went to the basement almost mechanically, a smiled plastered on her face. She left threw the basement door and straight into the small woods. It wasn’t until she had smashed the gun on a rock in the woods and buried it had it fully hit her what she had done. She had killed her boyfriend. He was dead and never coming back. She stared hypervenalating, clutching her shirt, almost ripping it. Tears had formed in her eyes and were now cascading down her pale face. But she wasn’t crying for what she did to him, no. She was scared that there was a slight chance she was going to get caught. But she knew she was safe, nobody would suspect her. Her parents were home, upstairs in their room. She knew she had an alibi. They never knew she had left the house.4

When he was found dead later that night she was the first one they called. She played along, breaking down into tears, mopping around for a couple of months. All this time Kathleen felt absolutely no guilt. The guilt didn’t hit her until just a month ago, eight months after his death, when his mother killed herself. She killed herself because her baby boy, her only child was gone. Kathleen had never wanted to murder his mother. She was a wonderful woman. She reminded Kathleen on the old her, loved by everyone. Nobody was caught for his death and they had given up the search. She was safe and never even a suspect. People still came up to her telling her they were sorry; she played along. She felt some sadness of course, she had loved him.5

It wasn’t till a flashing caution sign blurred her vision did Kathleen come out of her head. She looked at the exit as she was passing; 24.She was getting closer to the city, her new home. She was studying graphic design at NYU. She hoped when she graduated she could get a job and stay in the city. Kathleen’s future was looking bright. But light was always accompanied by shadow, and her shadow was slowly consuming the light. Her past was dark if only for a brief moment. But it was that brief moment that caused her to fail. She knew that she could never escape this memory, him. It would follow her around for the rest of her life. It wasn’t much of a life anyway in Kathleen’s mind. In just one short, dark month her whole being was being eaten away by guilt. She regretted everything. What she did to him, his mother, his friends, all those people with uneasy minds because they thought, and still think, a killer is on the loose. But Kathleen wasn’t a killer, was she? In the truest sense of the word she was. Yes, she had killed, but in her mind? She wasn’t sure anymore. She wasn’t sure if she would ever kill again. She knew she had to end this, the guilt and the fear. She was going to turn herself in. With one swift movement she jerked the wheel to the side and let go, of everything.