Glistening Crimson

I'm walking through the cobbled London streets.

"She washed up on the banks about an hour ago, there's no ID"

Its quiet, there's nobody about. Of course there isn't, it's 10 o'clock on a Monday night, no sane person is out at this time of night.

"Lucy Latimor, 15, from Kidlington, Oxford. Here's her library card, see? How the hell did she end up here?"

It's best I'm alone, I can't drag down the others. Not that they'd even want to know where I am. They hate me, at least, they should. It's not my fault Sophie never spoke up about feeling secluded. I don't see why her mother had to get involved. Mrs Bakerson is right though. I'm worthless, best if I just disappear.

"Mr and Mrs Latimor? I'm Inspector Cotton, if you'd like to come this way?"

'Your a peice of shit, your worthless, stupid, scum. How dare you make my daughter cry.' I read through a selection of the messages on the screen with distaste before throwing the phone to the ground. It's not my fault... is it? I take a glance up at the great bridge. It's deep red contrasts with the dark sky, lit up like a Christmas tree.

"My baby, oh my God that's my baby! Hector, Hector that's our baby! Lucy! Oh God my poor Lucy!"

One Christmas, when I was little, we stayed with Nan in Scotland. That boxing day there was a murder. I found the body, y'know. I can't help but recall the morbid beauty of glistening crimson upon fields of white. She had been cut up, her stomach torn open and guts spilled everywhere in a mad, tangled mess. Her sternum had been crushed and her rib cage ripped open. The lungs rested above her head and in this awful, disgusting, macabre mess, I noticed that the heart was missing. We discovered later that a stalker had wanted her to be his, she hadnt wanted him and so he stole her heart.

"We've found her phone sir, we reckon we know who's responsible."

I had to go through a lot of therapy after that. I always knew that people called me a nutter but Sophie, Bianca, Talia and Oliver said I was just being parinoid. I know there were whispers though.

"Mrs Bakerson? No you must be wrong, why would she send messages like that to my daughter? Calm down Mary. C'mon Mary it'll be alright."

I've reached the bridge now. It's name, while well known, seems to escape me at this point. It doesn't matter now though, all I see is a menacingly tall structure. Red as the devil with water as dark as the Styx flowing below. The river below will finish it, if my heart dosent give out first. I briefly pause. Is this right? Should I really be doing this?

"Time of death, 1:03 on the 23rd June 2015. Suffered cardiac arrest before hitting the water. It's a dark river that. Been a lot of bad things happen in history around that thing."

I take a step up onto the railing.

"Why the hell would she do it?"

I glance down.

"Sandra Bakerson, you'be been charged with harrasment. Harrasment that led to suicide, how do you plead?"

I'm scared...

"Sandra Bakerson, you pleaded non-guilty to the charge. The jury has found you guilty. You have been sentenced to seven years, I hope that maybe this will give you time to think about what you've done."

I fall. The rushing sensation is endless as the air flys past me. The adrenaline rush is amazing but then

I only see black.