“I. Killed. My. Husband,” I enunciated the words.
She looked at me in confusion, probably wondering if I understood the implications of the statement.
I understood what was to come.
“You should have a lawyer, ma’am, before you say anything more.” She looked down at the mess I’d made. The blood seeped from his body, creating a red trail down the crevices between the tiles.
“I am a lawyer.” I smiled at her. “I killed him,” I repeated. “And I’d do it again, you know.” I used that pleasant tone people take to be nice to others. Patronizingly sweet.
There it was. A confession.
The truth. Or part of it, at least.
The only part I would offer them.
Some people waited a lifetime for it, an admission of wrongdoing, an acceptance of the consequences, but here I was giving it without being asked.
The police officer looked at me and frowned. She probably never expected that.
“You’re under arrest, ma’am.”
Those words were music to my ears. The iciness of the handcuffs was a welcome feeling on my slender wrists.
My daughter’s wails pierced the air, but I didn’t dare look at her. I couldn’t do that. Not right now. She shouldn’t be in this situation at all, and yet my actions put her here. She wasn’t even supposed to be home tonight, but there she was. I brought this nightmare into our home. Her memory of this house will forever be tainted by this one act of mine.
“My sister, call my sister. She’ll take care of her,” I said to the officer leading my daughter away from the scene. I recited her phone number, and the officer punched it into his phone.
They led me away. I glanced back for just a second, and an officer was crouched next to my husband. He placed what to me looked like a body bag next to him and for the first time, I wondered what it must be like to be dead.
Closing my eyes, my thoughts flit back to us talking and laughing. Did he sense this night would be his last? I pretended and fooled him into thinking everything was okay. He should have known better.
Could he see me now? Was he throwing daggers at me, wishing I would meet the same fate he did? Was he relieved and grateful I’d done him this favor, absolving him of his sins?
A small smile tugged the corners of my mouth, staring at the empty space in front of me, hoping Malcolm could see me. My shoulders relaxed as I placed one foot in front of the other, and the officer’s grip on my arm tightened.
Then there was only silence as I was led out of my beautiful suburban two-story house into the chilly July air. The house we’d lived and loved in. Our home. I walked barefoot onto my well-kept lawn, the dampened grass sending welcome chills through me. The garden lamps illuminated the flowers I’d planted—sunflowers, marigolds, and a bed of lavender—the smells a reminder of a life well lived. I wondered where my shoes were and remembered I’d discarded them when we arrived home from our night out. None of these officers had bothered to find me a pair. Who needs Jimmy Choo in prison anyway?
We followed the pathway onto the quiet street, now overpopulated with my neighbors, members of the homeowner’s association, and the neighborhood watch, all pajama-clad and holding onto their children for dear life. As they should.
I grinned widely at my neighbor, Melissa, and winked at her handsome husband, Marcus, who smiled at me before I was guided with a soft press of a palm against the top of my head into the back seat of a police car. Marcus would have loved to get his grimy hands on me under any circumstance.
The officers must have read me my rights at some point, but like the sound of the sirens, I didn’t hear them.
I heard only silence.
What does the sound of silence sound like?
It sounds like walking out of your cottage by the beach and hearing only the gentle roar of the ocean, like lying in bed on a rainy day reading a book, like the sound of your child’s laughter. It sounds like peace and freedom.
You may think that was the day my life ended.
On the contrary, that’s where it all began.
ChapterOne
Alyssa
Before the Chaos
