6:03

The clock of time ticks away in a deafening manner, mocking me, the way my heart sinks lower and lower as the small hand edges closer to 6:00. The smell on this train is rank, like that odor behind the fridge that we found out to be a dead rat. You squealed and hid in the bathroom, leaving me to clean up the rotting carcass invading our holy space. Remember that? Syres, you know me, you know that I never would have done what they said I did. That knife wasn't mine, neither were those prints, you know that. You have to know that. After all these years, all those nights of pain and tears, where we held each other till morning, and even then didn't let go, all those moments of your gentle hands combing through my hair, your hands that had been through so much, their hardened calluses providing a comfort only you could make me want. Remember those times, those times where you come home with your face contorted into an expression I hadn't seen before as you collapsed into my arms, sobbing about what they did to you. Remember that? How I kissed you where the tears dried and told you it would all be alright, that we would get through it, reach days where the sun burns brighter and their voices grow duller. Tell me how you could truly believe that I would kill that man. My own hands have been reserved for keeping you near, happy, for the last ten years, tell me how I could possibly use them to bring harm to anyone? To stain the very things that you held so sweetly that one hot June day- where I wiped the sweat from your brow as you woke from a much needed sleep and toyed with our failing fan whilst you complained about the temperature and how it caused your hair to frizz- with the blood of another being? Remember, Sy? Say that you do, even though I won't be there to hear it. That day, you took my hands in yours, planting soft pecks on each of my bruised knuckles before you raised your head once more, the space between our eyes was sacred as you told me of your love and the entire universe seemed to slow it's pace as it waited for the air to re-enter my lungs and for my lips to press against yours, how could I take those very hands and use them to commit the most vulgar of crimes? Believe me, Sy. Have my words ever been false, caused you any harm? All those days I spent writing stories of love and light where the protagonist made it home in the end and led a long, fulfilling life with the one that she loved, those soothing tales I crafted so that you could shut your eyes dreaming of the serene possibilities of tomorrow, with no regards for the burdens of the present. Remember those stories? How much you enjoyed them, maybe as much as I liked narrating them. Those words that brought you pure solace as a lazy smile would spread across your face and your throat would compose the most ethereal sound to bless my ears, a sound that I had the privilege of coaxing out of you each moment we spent in each others presence, intertwined in bed, our limbs pressed against one another like puzzles pieces from seperate cases that still completed one another. All I have left is you, but even you're pulling away, trusting the words of those who wanted us gone over the woman you said you loved. Was it all just a lie? Did it mean nothing to you? The heartache, the sacrifice? I gave up everything to be with you and this is how you show your loyalty to me? Sometimes, they would throw me in a room and kick me around for days, Syres, stopping their savage attacks only when I could move no longer and when my ragged breathing turned to soft pleas and whimpers. They whispered vicious taunts into my ears before leaving the room, their laughs stayed with me though, bouncing off the walls that kept me confined, kept me from you. During those instances, I clutched onto the necklace you gave me. Do you recall? You gifted it to me on my birthday, it was a pretty little thing, one we couldn't afford. We got into an argument over it, we needed that money to pay the landlord but you insisted I deserved it. I wore it everyday since, I wanted to make sure we got our moneys worth. I almost sold it in August when we were both getting thinner and Ms. Avons terrier from the apartment above ours was looking healthier than us, but I didn't do it, I had already grown attached to it by then. That necklace was my lifeline, a beacon of hope that kept me afloat before I could drown in surrender. I braced myself for the worst that was my life the other night, the raw, haunting screams of the man in the neighbouring cell had subsided, and the sound of footsteps grew closer, I remember that I gripped my necklace so tightly the marks remained on my hand for a long time, how long I couldn't say, I had no concept of time. I fought that night, I fought with everything I could, you would've been proud or maybe disappointed, seeing how I ended up in a pile of blood and vomit, the necklace pried from my exhausted, trembling hands, they said a murderer doesn't deserve nice things. They took it, Syres. It was the only physical reminder of your love, of the fact that it once existed and wasn't just a lie I deluded myself into believing in, and they took it, surely without an ounce of remorse. I lost the feeling in my legs after what they did. My conviction died with any possibilities of my freedom that night. The trains horn just went off, it startled me. It's a loud, brutal noise, Sy, it scared me. I'm jumpy now, easy to frighten, I flinch at everything you know? At any and every little movement or noise, I don't sleep as heavy as I used to, don't dream either. I wasn't always like this, you remember don't you? I was fierce and unforgiving, I was strong and determined and my eyes still had faith in them, enough to share with you. I'm afraid, afraid you took it all. As you walk away from me, taking all I am with you, just know that you are leaving behind a mess of a person, someone who needed you, someone who is now just a void through which your promises of devotion echo and reverberate, reminding me endlessly of your affection and cruelty. I hope you find no one else to share their secrets with you like I did, I hope you never find anyone who'll love you like I do, I hope you're told of the way I will scream your name as they kill me. Most of all, I hope that one day, you will wake up and realise that all along, I was innocent, that I was the one you should have stood by, that I was the one who deserved to have your presence by my side throughout this entire ordeal that will end in my death. I can feel the train slowing, soon it will stop and they will drag my battered body to the room where I will be beat till I can bleed no longer, and my heart gives out. I have poured my essence, my soul, into this letter so that they cannot take it like they have everything else, it is my final gift to you, my dear. Cherish it. The guards are making haste to get to my cell, after all, it's 6:03 and we're late.