Den of Darkness

Defensive Liars

Scared? I was never scared. My heart may be failing, but no, I will not die scared for I have my lover’s heart. Despite the horrendous disease that grips my soul, I am not scared, though possibly as mad as the guards say. For someone to willingly sacrifice is a truly great action and makes me proud to have done so. A knife’s blade faces my life and warns me, but my senses do not stray. And maybe I have always known and was far too ignorant to realize, but this is her fault just as much as mine. Oh, how the heart should be mine, forever we will be as we enter the worst moments of our sweet tragedy. Lovers forever in hell, that is what we will all be in this best blasphemy love can afford. A punishment worth taking, but an immortal debt I have had to pay, none the less.

Had I not been angered, none of this would have happened. If he still loved me like he promised they would both be happily living and I would have had a clean death. I have never been the type to overreact, but this situation just seems to bring out the worst in me. I had made the decision that I would die that day I lost myself. Listen to my story and perhaps you will understand.

I came home from the hospital, hesitating about the option my doctor had given me. As I entered the door to my home, I smiled when an epiphany hit me. I would die and allow everyone to live happily as though I had never existed. This would be alright, I would be happy knowing I had Dylan’s heart since he had sworn a thousand times his love for me. Dylan and Britney have always known this would happen anyways. I just will not tell them of the option. I walked into the kitchen and my vision turned red.They were embracing; Dylan and Britney. I would have expected this from Britney, but from Dylan, this behavior was simply appalling. They split apart at my entrance, in shock that I had caught them.

I cleared my throat and just looked at them for an explanation. Dylan was the first to speak. “It’s not what it-” I cut him off.

“What it looks like?” I questioned him. “You are a liar because from here it seems rather obvious. Do not lie to me,” I continued.

“Why don’t you get over yourself dear sister? Your little world isn’t perfect. How does it feel to know your world is falling apart? From here it seems pretty good. He loves me,” Britney sneered.

I did not give into her jealousy, she had always been jealous of my life and attempted to make every day of it as bad as possible. At the time I had concluded that she was lying. “Britney you should leave the room,” I commanded.

As she left, Dylan turned to me and pleaded, “Susan, please forgive me. I know that I used to love you, but I realize now that I have really only loved Britney all along. I apologize for misleading you.”

Realization hit me like thunder. Britney–for once- had not been lying to me and Dylan was the liar all along. All of my sanity that I once had changed into fury in an instant. “Liar,” I screamed. I continued on with my possessive rant, “How could you? You must be lying. You can’t be serious, not now. Not when I am going to d-”

He looked into my eyes, trying to convince me to accept his apology. “I am no longer in love with you, but I still love you. Realize this,” Dylan attempted to convey.

“No, I absolutely refuse to accept this deception. Not from you,” I fell to the ground crying out.

He lied, he lied, was all that was running through my mind. I quickly grabbed the kitchen knife and let agony and sadness take me as I listened to Dylan’s screams.

When the deed was done, I held my face in my blood covered hands, feeling the tears that slipped from my eyes.

Just then, Britney walked through the door. “What have you done?” she gasped.

“This is your fault,” I growled, completely convinced. “You made me kill him.”

She shook her head frantically. “No, this is your fault. Maybe if you just looked around you would have already known. You were always too ignorant, but now look at you, you know it all. I am no liar; you are the liar to yourself. He has always loved me, not you,” Britney denied.

From my point of view, she was goading me even further. All the guilt I had felt before vanished. Once again I let all the fury I felt out.

When it was all over, I dropped the knife. I cleaned up all of the evidence that would affect me. Afterwards I called the police and they investigated as far as they could.

I could never look inside the room again. I had erased all the physical evidence, but I can still see the scene in my head. The neighbors knocked on the door after hearing the screams of pain, all of our screams. The neighbors, Sally and Martin Smith, felt sorry for my loss. The two of them seemed to say it over and over again, trying to help me. The middle-aged couple seemed far too sympathetic about the situation. They basically spent an entire two weeks at my side trying to help my depression. Of course the attempts were futile as the guilt clawed at me.

Eventually I took the surgery done for my disease. Suddenly my life was changed and I survived. One day I found myself tearing my hair out, having replayed the scenes over and over again. Tears ran down my face, while I cried out all of the pain. While the sun set and the Smith’s were over, rubbing my back, I came to my conclusion. It was my fault. I killed them and it was purely my fault. I am going insane from guilt.

Sobs broke out of me and Sally encouraged, “It’s all right. Their deaths weren’t your fault. It’s okay now.”

All that had been revealed was that I had seen their deaths occur. No, I could not keep on lying. That was the reason why this all happened -because I was an ignorant liar. “It is my fault. I killed them. I killed them both. It’s my fault. Leave me alone. Put me in jail. Just take me away from here!” I confessed. Even after my confession though, the Smith’s were still sympathetic to me, after all I had done.

Looking back now, the gray walls seem to close in on me. I regret that entire day and previous life. My ignorant past is all that runs through my mind, but at least I learned my lesson. Now I pay off my debt everyday in a cell.

I screamed at the doctor who had just called me crazy, “I am not crazy. This is just all my fault. And though I am in this building and losing myself in guilt, I can always blame my insanity on you!”

I jumped on him and the last thing I heard wastheircries of pain while the guards tried to pry me off the pathetic therapist.

__________________________________________________________

A/N: This was for a school project, inspired by The Tell Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe.