Wrongly Accused

As I walk through the crowd of people, they late and sneer at me. Making a path for me, they make it clearly evident that they would like to be nowhere near me. In their eyes you can see a pang of instilled fear. The media and press turned me into a monster. Everyone fears me now.  They fall silent until I pass through and continue my trek alone. Left with only my thoughts and the click clacking of my heels on the sidewalk. 

People whisper, point and stare as I walk by. I can’t even leave my house anymore without feeling like I’m being prosecuted all over again. The city doesn’t welcome me, not like it once did. They city loves a juicy drama story but hates when there is no conviction. The city is scared of me and my alleged capabilities. 

Even now, the papers will still run an occasional news column about the events that overturned my life. I still hear people whisper gossip about it. ‘How did she do it?’ ‘Did she stab him?’ ‘No no, I heard she poisoned him.’  ‘No way, I heard she shot him!’  No matter what people say, the murder trial is over. I was acquitted due to insufficient evidence. Whether I did it or not, my name and reputation is already tarnished. Everyone thinks I’m a murderer. 

I didn’t kill him though, and I don’t know or understand why I was the scapegoat for this case. For the record, I loved him. I just wish I knew who really did kill him because maybe, just maybe, then my torment would finally cease. People would leave me alone and people wouldn’t be terrified and horrified of me.

I step into the grocery and an older woman walks towards me. 

“I know who you are. Murderers aren’t welcome. You belong in prison, not roaming the streets freely as you so please. For all we know you’re scouting for your next victim!  You could be getting ready to kill again! With you around, no man is safe!” She spits in my face and then promptly exits the store.

Even shopping for groceries is a crime for me. Jeez sorry lady, but I want to eat food too. Other people gawk and stare at the scene that just unfolded, with gentle whispers traveling between. Wiping the spit from my face I address the whispering strangers, “What are you still staring at? The show’s over folks, go back about your day.”  They all shuffle about and finish their shopping. With an event like that, I turn and head home instead of staying and shopping for groceries. I can go shopping another time.

Deciding and not wanting to face another crowd, I try to hail a taxi home. I know a taxi won’t stop for me though, they never do anymore. Not after all that has happened. I guess I can’t blame the public, they all think I’m guilty of murder. Now they’re always watching me. Always.

Giving up on a taxi, I choose to walk through the alley ways to get home. Maneuvering my way around the city, I try to stay out of sight until I get to my apartment building. After the trial and acquittal, I’ve  had to move three times because of harassment. It never stops, and feels like it never will stop. As I creep through the alley, I finally see and approach my apartment building. I look around quickly before scurrying inside.

The building is warm, compared to the frigid air outside. I glance outside and catch a quick peak of snow flurries starting fall and float through the air. I got inside just in time I guess. I shuffle to the elevator and press the button. Waiting for the elevator to arrive feels like an eternity. It finally arrives and the door opens with a little ding sound. I  step inside and press the button for my floor, floor number four.

I frantically press the door close button, waiting for the elevator door to shut so I will be able to enter the sanctuary of my apartment. This entire event has made me a recluse for most of the time. The only time I leave my apartment is to go grocery shopping. Even now I can hardly do that.

The door slides shut and with a jerking motion, the elevator starts to ascend towards the fourth floor. As the elevator arrives at my floor it lurches to a stop. With my key ready in hand I wait for the door to open. Once it does I scramble out and dash to my door. People scare me, although I choose not to show it. The door unlocks with a click and inside I hurdle.

After locking my door behind me, I can finally take a deep breath and relax just a little bit. I grab a wine bottle and slump down on the couch. Maybe I can drink all my problems, memories and worries away. With the bottle clinging to my lips, I turn the television on.

A newswoman is standing on the stairs of the courthouse, “—and she now will be on trial for the murder of James Hardy. In the tragic event of his death, she maintains that she wasn’t involved. When asked why she did it she only said and I quote, ‘I didn’t kill him, I loved him.’ The police however believe that she—”  I change the channel to something else, another news channel. Another reporter on the stairs of the courthouse, “— she's been acquitted, that's right folks, I said it. She will not being going to prison for the murder of James Hardy. In the sad turn of events we see one of the failures of the justice system not pulling through. We would all like to see Miss Janie Winslow behind bars, but maybe karma has other plans for her—”

“NO! I DIDN'T KILL HIM!” I scream at the tv. I take a long drink from the bottle and then drop it to the floor and with a loud crash it shatters. Cheap bottle, I shake my head a couple times and look at the tv again. There is no news reporter, and there is no talk about my murder trial. I turn the tv off, my mood now crushed into the depths. I get up and decide to leave my apartment. There’s something I have to go do now.

I ride the elevator back down to the main floor where I then step outside of the building. The streets and sidewalks are buzzing with the lives of other people. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I open my eyes again. Cars roar and zoom past on the highway. Out of curiosity some people stop and stare at me. I close my eyes and step out into the street, into the deriving lanes.

A woman screams, cars honk and swerve until one doesn’t miss. The roar of the engine makes a beautiful sound as the metal comes into contact with my frail body.  All the sounds fade away and then darkness.