It all started 10 years ago from today, in the sun shine state of California. When I met her, it was at my favorite spot to be at during my 12th grade year, the library. It was deemed my favorite because it offered peace, yet it added fuel to the depression I had in my heart. Only a few years earlier, my parents were killed in a car wreck, which left me alone. From one foster home to another I went, it was my bi-monthly routine. So because of that, this is why I am the quiet guy, the guy who never goes out, the sad guy. But no one knew of my pain, they were ignorant to everything and assumed that they could phantom my reality! But they could not, my pain runs miles deeper than theirs. That was until I meet her. Her name was Laurel, Laurel White. She was a transfer student from Greyhound High school and was so very beautiful. Her short black hair, caramel skin, and luscious curves made her like a goddess. But what made her special was that she understood my pain as if it was her own. She dropped her notebook in the library and I caught her before she could get out the door. Thankful, she asked me if I wanted to get coffee at the Starbucks in the library. During this session, we started to talk and I learned that she was just like me. One could call it, “love at first sight”. She was able to comprehend my pain and help me feel what my heart ran out of long ago, and that was love. During the next couple of weeks we regularly meet each other at the library afterschool and closer. Her love flushed out all the pain in my heart, and I was happy. Our long conversations on the phone and at the library turned into regular outings, and before you know it we had started dating. Our mutual attraction and mutual loneliness manifested into love. Neither of us had a family so we were all each other had. Her parents had died in a house fire and she too was forced to live in multiple foster homes like me. Two years after graduation, we were still together and arranged to get married in one year. 10 months following our church house wedding, we now had a gorgeous baby girl. Her name was Kayla Marie Hill; her first name came from my mother’s name and her middle name came for Laurel’s mother’s name. Years had gone by and in those years we had moved into our own house, a change in scenery from the apartment we had since graduation. It was two story brick house located right in front of a forest. The neighborhood was quiet and the neighbors were quite friendly. Now, Kayla was 5 years old and starting kindergarten, and things were great. I had come accustomed to my new life, until it happened.
The following morning after Kayla started school, August 2nd was when my trust for Laurel started to fade. She was starting a new job, and I feared that someone would come and take her from me. She was so beautiful, and I wanted to keep her. My jealously of the men that might be at her office made me more and more possessive. That was the reason why my trust started to fade. The next two months that followed were hard. Every day, I accused her of cheating, I always thought that when she stayed overtime at work. My insecurities and trust issues drived my thoughts more and more towards darkness.
Drinking soon became a novocain for me to suppress my possessive behavior. My wife pleaded with me every night saying “Please, baby. Please trust me”. Eventually as time advanced she got tired. She became heartless toward me more and more. And as you would expect, she told me that she had wanted a divorce. As soon as she told me she had left home with Kayla and went to her best friend’s house. Frustrated, I went there and trashed the place until everything was broken and this resulted in a week in jail, and a restraining order. Now she ignores my calls; hell, one day I called her 10 times one day. How could she do this to me? Wasn’t I good to her, and I let her have the freedom she wanted? Is she not thankful? She has to pay.
Every day, I stalked her and studied her movements and on this one day after work, she worked overtime. It was the perfect opportunity. So I hid in the backseat of her Lexus Coupe and waited until she got in. I had my chloroform soaked rag in my right hand as she unlocked the car door. As she started the car I grabbed her and put the rag over her mouth until she was rendered unconscious. I moved her to the passenger side, pull out of the parking lot, then I started driving towards the house.
Finally after one hour we pulled up at the house; I parked her car into the garage. I got out the car, grabbed her body and carried her up the stairs as we slithered through the floor decorated in broken beer bottles, broken glass and pictures, and trash. Upstairs, I tied her up to a chair, and then I woke her up. She woke up confused, and then she saw me. “What the hell is wrong with you Gregory? Why can’t you just leave me alone?” As I tried to explain she continued to curse me out and scream. “You sinister bastard!” were the last words that she said to me. I immediately grabbed her neck and said “Shut up! It’s my turn to talk. I loved you and you do this? You were supposed to be mine!” As I continued her struggle to resist stoped. She stops moving, and her pulse is gone. She is dead. As I cry and go reckless realize I have to hide the body. So I pour gasoline throughout the house, and I ignite it on my way out. Her lifeless courpse is burned. Outside, I can smell the burning flesh of my former lover as tears dripped down my cheek. As the police sirens get closers and closer, I fled into the woods. I then made my way to our secret family campsite located in a remote site of the woods.
And here we are now. Alone in these dark woods. So to whomever may find this letter, just know that I regret all of this. And as I hold the gun to my head, tell my daughter that….. I’m sorry.
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