Goodbye, My Dear

Nightmares and Memories

That voice. What was that voice. It echoed throughout my skull, making me gnash my teeth together. I hated that damned voice. It was always there. Always taunting me. Ripping away at my insides. Tearing at me until I felt raw. I can't stand that fucking voice.

A scream. Somebody screamed... who was it? The maid. I can't imagine what must have been going through her mind. Certainly nothing good. I can't blame her for screaming. Anybody in their right mind would scream.
I was still rocking on the floor, my hands holding my head, with blood covering the floor in front of me.
Where's the body? This much blood, there has to be a body.

Don't you remember Jack? We disposed of it. Threw it out. Burned it behind the shed. You do remember, don't you? You must. That was most certainly a night to remember. So much fun!

"Leave me alone!" I screamed into the silent hall. I hear the clopping of heels, indicating I scared the maid away.
   Blood trickled down my face. I brought my hand out in front of me. Covered in blood.
   What is happening to me?

   Later that day, the police arrive to question me and investigate the scene.
   I did my best to comb my hair over the places my fingers had torn at. I must have not donw as well as I thought, because they still shot strange glances at me.

   "What happened here?"
   "I'm not sure"
   "What do you remember from last night?"
   "Nothing"
   "Was the young lady acting strange lately?"
   "No"
   They questioned me further. More questions I had no answer to. Or withheld the answer from. I'm not sure if they believed me.

   That night I lay in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling. Visions of last nights "dream" playing through my head over and over again. Enough to drive any man insane.

   I'm not sure quite when I fell asleep, but I must have, because by morning there was another gap in my memory. I swung my legs over the side of my bed, but froze when they touched something cold and wet. Panic grasped my every sense. Slowly, ever so slowly, I leaned forward to looking at the thig beneath my feet. I wish I hadn't.
   It was Anne-Marie. Blood staining her dress, and clinging to her skin. Hair, crusted in mud. Skin, white as paper.
In an instant I was on the other side of the bed. Thoughts raced through my head, a thousand a second. The most recurring being how?
   "Y-you're dead. You're dead. Your body is gone. You are gone."
   I was trembling. Nothing made sense. Not how she died. How I killed her. Not where she went. Not how she got here. Nothing.

   The scene changed. I was behind the shed, Anne-Marie's cold body slung over my shoulder. Carelessly, I tossed the body on the ground, and dug a pack of matches out of my breast pocket. A swipe and a toss, and she was ablaze. And I just stood there. I watched as her dress burned away, and then the skin under that. I watched until all that was left was the bones. And I just stood there. I just watched.