(no subject)
Late night of October 11th, by the river
Funny how heavy he is, didn't realise how much heavier he'd feel when he was dead, like a bag of wet sand. This bag is leaking, and I have to put a hand over my mouth to stop a laugh leaking out of me. This ain't no time for hysteria. And even if I didn't mean to kill him, well, I did, and well, I've got to get on with it now.
Think about pushing him into the river, but there ain't no point in that, not like he'll pass for drowned with the hole in his gut where the knife went. The river ain't big enough or fast enough to guarantee it'll take him downstream more'n a mile or two before he washes up. Here is fine, near the river.
He banged the back of his head as he went down. I needed to stop the blood trailing, you know, when I drug him along the grass, off the road. Stole some sheets off a washing line so's I could drug him on those, stop the smearing, and well, if someone recognises the sheets, that's alright, ain't it? They'll think it was them, not me, and that was when the plan formed. Feel sort of bad about it now, wanting to stitch her up for it, but better her than me. She's half-crazy these days anyway, they'll easily believe she got mad and did it. And she hasn't got no one but that hard-faced boyfriend to miss her. So I use her sheets, and I put her initials in his diary, right next to today's date, like theys had a meeting. Should be enough to lead the sheriff that way.
I think for a minute 'bout talking to the sheriff, but no. I've only got my word what happened, and I ain't going to get myself hanged or shut up in a cell for good on account of this. Can't trust her to look at things my way.
So I drug him along the grass and shove him into some undergrowth by the river, all wrapped up in them sheets. There ain't nothing on my shirt won't wash out, not like we've got that forensic science no more. And I wore gloves to drug him along, in case the sheriff can dust for prints. So it should be alright.
Breathing a bit calmer now, and pretty sure no one's seen me out here tonight. I'll walk home a different way, just in case.
I glance back just once at - the body. Least it ain't hot weather. Sheriff should find him before he puffs up too much. I guess that's better.
Funny how heavy he is, didn't realise how much heavier he'd feel when he was dead, like a bag of wet sand. This bag is leaking, and I have to put a hand over my mouth to stop a laugh leaking out of me. This ain't no time for hysteria. And even if I didn't mean to kill him, well, I did, and well, I've got to get on with it now.
Think about pushing him into the river, but there ain't no point in that, not like he'll pass for drowned with the hole in his gut where the knife went. The river ain't big enough or fast enough to guarantee it'll take him downstream more'n a mile or two before he washes up. Here is fine, near the river.
He banged the back of his head as he went down. I needed to stop the blood trailing, you know, when I drug him along the grass, off the road. Stole some sheets off a washing line so's I could drug him on those, stop the smearing, and well, if someone recognises the sheets, that's alright, ain't it? They'll think it was them, not me, and that was when the plan formed. Feel sort of bad about it now, wanting to stitch her up for it, but better her than me. She's half-crazy these days anyway, they'll easily believe she got mad and did it. And she hasn't got no one but that hard-faced boyfriend to miss her. So I use her sheets, and I put her initials in his diary, right next to today's date, like theys had a meeting. Should be enough to lead the sheriff that way.
I think for a minute 'bout talking to the sheriff, but no. I've only got my word what happened, and I ain't going to get myself hanged or shut up in a cell for good on account of this. Can't trust her to look at things my way.
So I drug him along the grass and shove him into some undergrowth by the river, all wrapped up in them sheets. There ain't nothing on my shirt won't wash out, not like we've got that forensic science no more. And I wore gloves to drug him along, in case the sheriff can dust for prints. So it should be alright.
Breathing a bit calmer now, and pretty sure no one's seen me out here tonight. I'll walk home a different way, just in case.
I glance back just once at - the body. Least it ain't hot weather. Sheriff should find him before he puffs up too much. I guess that's better.