Guilty or not Guilty?
There’s a loud screeching sound that wakes me up. I get up groaning, what a wonderful way to wake up. The world’s a little blurry so I reach up to rub my eyes, after doing so, I see a dark figure darkening the entrance. He looks down on me with a disapproving face, “You’ve been proven not guilty, you’re free to go.”
I couldn’t believe my ears, I’m free? After so long of being tortured by my fellow cellmates, seeing things I never thought I would have to see, I’m free? I leave my cell receiving my belongings on my way out and I change out of my orange jumpsuit into my white shirt and jeans. My oh my, I really have grown. My muscles are bulging out of my shirt and the jeans are a tad bit short on me. These clothes once fit a scrawny teenage boy. Look at me now, a late teen. I walk out of the prison feeling like a new person. But then I come to a halt, I have no one, no one to welcome me home with open arms, no one to love because they don’t love me now.
It’s the first day being out of prison and I get out of my motel bed to get ready for a wander around this small town. This small town is the place where I grew up, so I’m looking forward to catching up with my old friends, see what they’ve done with their life since they already know what I’ve been doing.
The long footpaths stretch out on the sides of stores that sell all sorts of things. I feel people’s eyes burning into me, I can’t help but blush because how could I forget? It’s a small town, news travels quickly. A group of girls walk past me whispering my name and story too loudly for my liking. Suddenly, I wish I was back in prison because at least no one cares what you’ve been put in for and if they didn’t like you, they’d say it through punches and poisonous words- not behind your back. I step into the grocery store and I wish I didn’t.
I’ve been thrown into prison for a crime I didn’t commit. But no one knows that.
I look around nervously to see every single person in this store glaring at me. The air in the room changes, I smell his cologne, the same guy who killed my best friend. My head snaps to look at this guy right into his piercing cold eyes. Killer eyes. The memories come back to me like my breath, the breath I’ve been holding for the past minute since I set foot in this store. Blood. There’s blood everywhere, there’s screaming that abruptly came to a stop. Red smudges and splatters on the wall. Everything broken on the ground. Two bodies in the living room, one standing over the other that’s laying still on the ground. I still remember that huge evil smile he had on his face, no one would smile over something like that unless they were crazy. Then he thrusted the gun in my hands while wiping his bloody hands on my shirt and fled the scene. No words were spoken. I couldn’t process this fast enough, it was like my brain just dropped dead, like my best friend. I realised what had just happened and I stood there emotionless because I knew what was going to happen next. As if right on cue, red and blue lights reflect on the windows surrounding the entire front of the house, I had no escape. The cops saw the supposed murderer and did not investigate further into this crime, they thought they had their guy. I was thrown into prison but that’s a whole ‘nother story.
This guy was a free man, the murderer and no one but me knows that. No one believed me for 5 years until recently new information resurfaced showing that it couldn’t have been me who killed my best friend. But no evidence shows that it’s this, this insane man. I so badly want to put my hands around his throat and throttle him, but, I know better.
No one knows that I’m not guilty.













