Guilty

Part 1: Guilty

Dedicated to AnjaliT001 or someone I simply like to call Anjali for introducing me to the huge world of wattpad...

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02:49 a.m.

I walked slowly towards the red recliner I bought at an auction in Miami. I remembered the time when my price had gone thrice and the man with the hammer slammed it onto the table, startling me from my glorious moment of prestige second hand ownership. I remember shaking hands with the first owner of that chair, an old stooping man with horn rimmed glasses. His handshake was firm. Like one of a battle hardened veteran. I didn't know why I was recalling these memories now. I should be deep in my sleep right now.  I sat on the recliner, slowly relaxing my tensed muscles on the fine leather seat. My biceps and shoulders felt sore. I laid my hands on the armrests. The hair on my forearm stuck to my skin where bluish green nerves jutted out, pulsating every now and then. Sweat wasn't the only thing that kept the hair down. Blood. Fresh and maroon blood swept across both my arms and the print of the Star Wars t shirt. The eerie liquid was now slowly mixing with the red color of the seat. I noticed how different real blood was from how it was shown on television. I gulped and looked up. Approximately 4 feet from my legs, was a body. Arms and legs spread wide, T-shirt torn from the left, under which were several pieces of torn skin and open exposure to the bodies' organs, leaking intestinal liquids along with blood. Near him was a basic kitchen knife, smeared with the red liquid, a drop on its tip, waiting to fall but not yet ready. I closed my eyes and felt a teardrop fall from my eyelash, making its way down to my chin, and fell on my t-shirt, causing and amazing mix of blood and salty water. I felt a cold sweep of wind hit my face. I looked again. I saw the source of the chilly breeze. A crack carefully nestled it way roughly through the middle of the single hung window, against which curtains stuck and blew. Then I realized. It was not my mistake. That man had tried to rob me. All I had done is defend myself, or my hard earned money. All I need to do now is call 911. I carefully stood up and felt broken fragments of glass stick to my feet. I didn't care. All I cared about now was my life. I jogged into my room. I looked at the messy bed and desperately muffled the bed sheets, searching for my cell. I picked it up and looked at the cracked screen. I unlocked it and opened my keypad, almost mechanically; my fingers typed 911 as if it was something I did every day. I put the cold screen to my left ear. "Hello, this is 911, how may I assist you?" a calm voice of a lady answered. "I....I....ummm..." I answered. "Sir, are you all right? Are you having difficulty speaking? A paramedics van is on its...". "No thank you. I am okay. Sorry for the..." I cut the line before completing my sentence. What was wrong with me? Why didn't I tell her everything I knew? And then, it hit me. I had absolutely no evidence that the man was here to rob me. I opened Google on my cell and typed: punishment for killing a man. The results were heart breaking. It showed life sentence all over the page. I couldn't afford to go to prison even for a year. I had dreams, ambitions and moreover I had goals to achieve. I couldn't call 911. Not again. I stood up again, but this time I felt the pain of the glass tearing through my feet. I brushed it off and wore my slippers. I entered the foyer once more, hoping this time the body won't be there and this would all be a dream. But the body was untouched, just the way I had left it. I sat on the couch this time, sinking into it as if it were a marshmallow. Before I had time to think anymore, the doorbell rang...