Thursday March 27th

Today is Thursday March 27th 2019 and today by the end of the day, I will be arrested and charged with murder. 

I didn’t do it. 

And I know that’s what everyone says and that you’re not going to believe me but I swear just hear me out.

A week ago today, the 20th, I woke up in a cold sweat at 3am. I have frequent night terrors so this isn’t anything new. After they happen I usually just step out onto my balcony to get some air and go back to bed, but that night I decided to take a walk. I pulled a hoodie over my head, shoved on a pair of sneakers and left my apartment. 

I exited through the North facing door and took a right on Madison. I walked two blocks until I saw a liquor store that was open. Across the street from the story I saw an alleyway, and in this alley I saw Anya. 

I’ve known Anya Lockhart since my first day of work about 3 years ago. It was my first job out of college as a junior software applications developer at this big company, and she was my boss. Anya could be a runway model if she wanted to, tall, blonde and skinny with, face structure that a plastic surgeon couldn’t even replicate. She was always in the front for all the annual Christmas party pictures and always in the company promotional pictures. I was only 22 at the time so I looked up to her, she was one of the only women in a male dominated industry at a high position and looked stunning while doing it. She was everything I wanted to be. That was until she screwed my boyfriend.

 What I later found out was that Anya was a junior developer just like me a little over a year ago, but then she started screwing her bosses bosses boss, who was the CEO of the company Raymond Hall. Within a year she was running the New York office. She had a reputation for sleeping around even before that, but since she was in what seemed to be a committed relationship with the director I didn’t even worry about bringing my boyfriend with me to the Christmas party last December. I was wrong. 

When I finished my turn for karaoke I realized he had gone missing, but I paid it no mind I just assumed he had stepped out for some air. I went to the bathroom and was checking the stalls to see if anyone was in there, and just so happened to check the one with Anya and my boyfriend, his hand up her skirt.

The following morning at work I went into Raymond's office and told him everything I saw. It was petty and irresponsible but I didn’t care. He didn’t believe me of course, “his precious Anya would never” he said. He didn’t believe me until she walked in and her skin went cold.

They broke up for about 3 weeks, then got back together at the company New Years Eve party, while me and my boyfriend stayed apart. I couldn’t get past the pain of being betrayed like that.

After this Anya hated me, which then impacted my progress at work. She passed me up for promotions I obviously deserved, embarrassed me in front of my white male coworkers, even tried to get me fired for violating code of conduct over small and inconsequential mistakes. To this day I don’t understand why she hated me so much. She chose to feel up my boyfriend, and not only did she get to keep her job afterwards but her and Raymond got engaged that January. Her life was perfect yet she still had this vendetta against me.

 On February 27th I had had enough. I tried confronting her in person but she said If I came in her office she’d call security. When I tried to speak to Raymond directly he ignored me and said he didn’t care, I couldn’t even get past his secretary. I was furious and so I resorted to my plan B. In a drunken rage I sent Anya 5 emails, left her 7 voicemails and approximately 22 text messages. These messages consist of me telling her how I feel about her,, using words such as “slut”, “whore and "delusional", I even left her a few death threats. I snapped. I forgot to mention that I’m the occasional alcoholic. I try not to drink often, but when I do, I binge, usually for a few days. And I blackout. At first it felt good, I was tired of being treated like garbage for one stupid mistake that affected my life more than it did hers. It felt like I had lifted a weight off my chest, I felt free. Later when the alcohol set in, and I realized what I had done I was a little bit embarrassed. I don't regret what I said, just how I said was a little bit regretful. It was to late now, I just had to await the consequences.

When I arrived to work on February 28th 2019 I was immediately sent to HR and fired. Anya had shown them all the messages and voicemails before I got there, it was more than enough evidence for a dismissal. I was angry of course, at myself but mostly at Anya. She abused her power against me for no other reason than to make me miserable, and I let her. They had been waiting for the chance to fire me, and I handed it right to them. I did exactly what they wanted me too. I let them win.  

 I’ve spent the last month unemployed, waking up everyday at noon not eating until 4, drinking more liquor than water, staying up till dawn. The usual "I’m depressed because I lost my job” crap. I haven’t bothered looking for a new one, no employer wants a crazy lady with a mild drinking problem running code for them, and I have no referrals and no previous employers to contact seeing as that was my first job in the stem field. I’ve been telling myself that I’m using this time to “figure myself out” and whatever but that’s not true. I’m just depressed and out of options. 

Anya is standing in this alley wearing a long trench coat and heels. She’s looking around like she's trying to find someone. I duck down behind a car, the last thing I need is for her to see me. I don’t know who she could be looking for at 3am on this side of Manhattan, since Anya lives in a two story penthouse with Raymond on the upper east side, she has no business over here.

A man, about 6 foot, white, slim, and lanky approaches her. I can’t get a good look at his face because he has a hoodie on. Anya jumps, but then settles when he sees his face. When he approaches her he opens his arms and she melts into him. They spend what feels like an hour wrapped into each other. She looks up at him and he plants a kiss on her lips. 

Did I expect any less? No. Am I angry that I lost my job because this woman screwed my boyfriend and even after she got her life back and ruined my life in the process she still can’t keep her legs closed? Yes I am. I stand up and walk into the liquor store. I might as well be inebriated if I have to go home and feel this feeling again.

I spent about 7 minutes in the store, I bought the first bottle of cheap vodka I saw, it cost about 13 dollars, and I paid in cash. It took me 3 minutes to checkout, because the cashier thought my ID was fake, which it wasn't.  I had to show him my drivers license and my state ID for him to let me purchase it. I make my way out the door and take about 12 steps back in the direction while sipping my vodka out of a brown paper bag and glance back into the alleyway. 

First I see blood, pooling from out of the alleyway, then I saw a hand hanging down into the pool. At this point my mind is telling me to leave, to run. But I'm intrigued, I want to know more. I walk across the street carefully and slowly, When I make it to the sidewalk I see her. 

Anya is laid out on the concrete, her arm barely peeking out of the alleyway, the blood leaking into the cracks of the sidewalk. She has a blunt force trauma to her head, so bad her blond hair was matted and stained red, so bad I can see the pink in her skull. Her eyes are open in a stake of shock, she has a cut on her lip like she’s been punched straight into her mouth. Her trench coat is dirty from the cigarette buts and shards of glass from the ground. Her shoes are off, and they’re not anywhere near her on the floor. She’s dead.

I kneel down and hold her face in my hands and look in her eyes and stroke her hair. Her stake white skin was cold, her modelesque bone structure caved in. She looked petrified. I use my middle and index fingers to close her eyes, and wipe the blood from her mouth. 

Humans like to believe that we are kind people, that we are empathic people. That we’re programmed to care and to nurture and love thy neighbor. None of that is true. At our core we are animals, barbarians. Our priorities are to eat, reproduce and survive. That’s it. We tell ourselves that we care about other people when bad things happen to them, that we wouldn't wish things on our worst enemy but that’s just another lie. The hurt is superficial, it doesn’t affect us. I didn’t even flinch when I saw Anya. I didn’t cry, I didn’t panic, I didn’t scream. I would say I didn’t care but that’s not true. I felt a sense of pride, that I got to see her at her most vulnerable, at the last place she had ever been alive. I was glad. Anya died doing the thing that uprooted my whole life. It was sick, but it was karma. 

It’s what she deserved. 

I sat on the ground and held her for a while, I can’t remember how long. It wasn’t until someone approached me that I called 911. I sat with her head in my arms until the authorities arrived, when they got here I had blood on my hands and knees and was shivering from the cold. I don’t know why I sat there with her, It felt peaceful, like the sense of closure I had been missing from my life since I got fired. She finally got what she deserved, I wanted to enjoy it for as long as I could. 

 They asked me to go to the station for questioning with them, and I complied. They asked basic stuff, like how and when I found her what she was doing before I went into the store, if I saw her with anyone. The only question I had trouble with was when they asked if I knew her. I contemplated whether to lie or not for obvious reasons but I decided to just tell them the truth. 

It took the police less than 3 days to find out about my history with Anya. The cheating, the workplace abuse, the firing, all of it. Worst of all, they found our phone records. Of course she didn’t delete them, she was probably scared that I was gonna stalk her or something crazy. She needed evidence. 

The second they found those recordings I became a prime suspect. They called me on the 23rd for more questioning, and again on the 24th. They asked me about every single detail of my relationship with Anya, and I told them everything. Lying would just make me look guilty, and they had plenty of evidence and witnesses to prove me otherwise if I did. The last thing I needed was to further incriminate myself through irresponsible and baseless lies. 

It was getting pretty good media coverage as well. “Fiancé of a tech company CEO found dead in alleyway”. Later in the week they mentioned me as a suspect, making me a public target.“ The woman who allegedly found Ms. Lockhart early Thursday morning is now the prime suspect in the investigation. 24 year old Madison Sweeney has a violent past with Ms. Lockhart, as she was her past employer. Sweeney was fired from her job after a series of violent threats she left for Ms. Lockhart regarding their work relationship.” If I ever had a chance of getting another job in my field, it’s completely out the window now. 

Today is Thursday March 27th 2019 and today by the end of the day, I will be arrested and charged with murder of Anya Lockhart. 

I still didn’t do it.

I told the police about the man in the hoodie, and about the cheating, but once they listened to the voicemails I became completely unreliable. Conveniently there were no cameras on the street or in the alley way, the only evidence I have to support me is the camera in the liquor store, and the cashier. The detective says that’s not enough, it still leaves enough time for me to kill her and sit there in a pool of her blood. There’s no murder weapon. The coroner's office says it was likely a hammer, or a wrench of some sorts. I don’t have one of those. If I did killer I wouldn't have had time to get rid of the murder weapon, come back and the sit down in a pool of her blood. Plus there was no blood splatter on my clothes indicating I hit her, only the stains from when I was crouched on the grown. I couldn’t have done it afterwards, I went straight to the precinct. The bigger picture of course points to me, but if you look at the details it doesn’t make sense. I couldn't have been me. I even told them about the shoes. Whoever killed her took her heels with them. Was it some weird robbery? Did the man in the black hoodie gift them to her and he wanted them back, but it turned into an argument gone wrong? I told them I don’t have it and I even asked them to search my apartment, which they did but I know they were looking for the weapon, not the shoes. They said the shoes are a minor detail that probably have nothing to do with the case but I think they have everything to do with it. If they find the shoes, they find the killer but they don’t care. They have their hearts set on arresting me.

I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. I don’t feel bad for her. She ruined my life for no reason other than the fact that she could. I don’t want to go to jail, but if that’s the price I have to pay then so be it. My attorney says since there's a lack of physical evidence and a murder weapon she could maybe push for murder in the second degree, but there's so much evidence supporting my motive and none supporting my alibi, the chances are low. There are no other suspects, and no other possible excuses. I’ll be in jail by Friday. 

I’m being ripped apart by the media. Sick, twisted, vapid, jealous, are just a few of the words being used to describe me. I’m not going to pretend like it doesn’t affect me, it definitely does. But I’ve been more concerned with spending the rest of my life in jail, than what people think of me. 

If Anya Lockhart was alive today, I’d probably tell her to go screw herself. I don’t feel bad for her. She was given a second at life and took it for granted. I feel bad for myself though, I don’t deserve any of this. It’s not fair. 

Hopefully jail is warm and the food is moderate, maybe I’ll lose some weight or make some friends. Maybe I’ll get jumped everyday, I heard they treat murderers like shit in prison. Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I don't.

Today, Thursday March 27 I will be arrested and charged for the Murder of Anya Lockhart.

Although I'm glad she's dead I swear I didn't do it. I've come to terms with the fact that I will have to pay for this for the rest of my life, but the joy of knowing she got what she deserved makes it all worth it.