A Stalker's Perspective

after the murder

Isn't it funny that once dead, they aren't as pretty as they appeared before?

From afar it seemed as if she were sleeping peacefully, right there on the couch.

*klick*

The honey-blonde hair framed her heart-shaped face.
But her facial expression showed horror and fear.

*klick*

The scene that was displayed in the room across the street made me feel thrilled and horrified at the same time.

*klick*

Her porcelain skin with rosy cheeks, was now dull and liveless.

*klick*

The girl's eyes now remembered me of dead fish eyes.

*klick*

On her neck, traces of how she was being killed. The marks of her favorite silk scarf.
The one her mom gave to her for her 16th birthday.
The one she wore all day every day. The one she always touched when she felt nervous.
It was bright red and kind of reminded one of her personality. Bright and vibrant.

*klick* 

She was strangled with it.
How ironic how something you dearly love can be used to take your life one day.

Surprisingly, I wasn't affected that badly by her death.

That's what I thought as I looked through the camera lens one last time before carefully putting it in my backpack. 

The thing that affected me tho was that it should have been me. I should have killed her.

Hearing the muffled sirens in the distance I knew I should tell them everything I'd witnessed, that's what a good citizen would do...