The landscape passed by me in a blur as I sprinted through the woods, my breath visible in the cool morning air. Behind me I could faintly hear the barking of a pack of dogs. They were getting closer. I tried to increase my speed but the pain shooting from my right side was almost unbearable. My body started to cramp up as my legs began to burn with pain. As I dodged trees and fallen logs a loud howl erupted behind me, they had found my trail. Fear ran through my chest, I ran faster, even though my body protested.
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The Week Before:
The sunlight kissed my cheeks as I rose from the comfort of my warm bed, I heard a loud commotion from down stairs. Thinking it was my husband making breakfast, I walked to the stairs. Voices stopped me from going down. The voices grew louder, more frantic, as I slowly crept down the stairs to hear. A gut curling scream ruptured through the house, startling me, and almost losing my footing. Picking myself up, I ran down the rest of the steps, stopping in the doorway of the kitchen. Right before me, a strange bearded man stood, holding a large kitchen cleaver; blood dripping from it. I looked down to see my husband barely alive. "James!" I ran to him as tears formed in my eyes and my throat went dry. I held him as each breath threatened to be his last. Then I felt his whole body convulse into a spasm and went limp. I looked around frantically, searching for the man that had killed my love. But I was all alone with James dead in my arms.
Hours later I was outside, wrapped in an old musty blanket the police had given me. While forensics searched my house, the police questioned me. Morning dew still clung to our freshly cut lawn that my husband did the day before. My eyes began to blur with tears as I recalled at the memory. Somebody grabbed my shoulder startling me, bringing me back into reality.
"Mam?" I looked up into the face of a young officer.
"Yes?" I said almost inaudible.
"We have to take you to the station to identify the man that had killed your husband." He said almost as if regretting it. I nodded slowly as he slipped his arm around my waist and led me towards one of the many police cruisers.
A couple of policemen led me through the station. It was swarming with all sorts of activity; people hurrying from room to room, some working on computers, others talking to one another explaining cases and exchanging information. It reminded me of a bee's hive. They led me through hallways and doors until we came upon an empty room containing only a desk and a worn chair. A large mirror hung to the right. I slowly sat down in the chair and almost immediately the door flew open and a small balding man shimmied in carrying a mountain of black binders and books.
"We would like you to uh... look at these and identify the uh... killer." He said struggling to push his glasses up his nose and slamming the books on the small table. The table groaned in protest of the weight, threatening to collapse.
The man opened one of the larger binders. Dust drifted from the inside as if it hadn't been open since it was made. Coughing the man pointed to the tabs and went about explaining how to find the murder using certain features on the man's face.
"Good luck." he wheezed as he slipped out of the room. The police that escorted me in the room followed him shutting the door behind them.
It felt like forever to go through all the books. Not one containing the man who had killed James. Since that had failed they brought in a sketch artist. I described the killer and she drew him out. The end result brought back the grisly images of that morning. The police sent me home saying I needed rest after the long frightful day.
