“But, you don’t understand!” I looked around the room. Two police officers, with guns pointed at me, looked back.
“Nothing to understand.” The one on the left spoke. The one on the right never said a word. “Now, put the knife down.”
Dad always taught me never argue with someone packing a gun. Said it was the fastest way to get dead. “And always do exactly what the police tell you.” I held the knife out, by the hilt, with my index finger and thumb, so they could see it. And I dropped it.
The one of the right pulled out handcuffs, and put them on me.
Sheila’s mom was a pathetic pile of rubble on the living room floor, crying like a baby, wailing away. Sheila was trying to comfort her.
“I just killed a man.” It’s what I’d done. “I had to kill him.”
The one of the left waved his hand, “You don’t have to say anything.”
“I don’t have anything to hide.”
“He slept with his daughter. Every night.”
Sheila screamed, “I told you not to tell!”
“He slept with her. Raped her. Fucked her. Every night.” I looked straight into that cops eyes. “So, I stopped him.”
Sheila started wailing, like her Mom. The officer on the left spoke into his radio. He requested a team come out to help Sheila and her mom.
“Time for me to go to jail, ain’t it?”
“He fucking deserved it.”
I wrote this for Siobhan Muir‘s #ThursThreads, Week 169. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are good reading.