That Was Different

If new to the series, you will find all chapters here:

Dark Memoirs - Index

“Nothing can last forever. There isn’t any memory, no matter how intense, that doesn’t fade out at last.”

— Juan Rulfo, Pedro Páramo

I had always wanted to just push someone into the sea, or off a mountain. Not for the thrill, though it would be a nice day out. The aim, as ever, would be to efficiently dispose of the evidence and close another system in on itself. Dramatic, of course. But.

“Why are you telling me all this?” asks a female’s voice, interrupting my line of thought.

Who…

Wait.

Oh. Because it’s irrelevant. (Important note to self: I’m not sure.)

You came to me. Didn’t you? Because your life was in turmoil. Yes?

“I’ve done nothing to you or anyone. Is this something to do with that bitch, Alexandria? I swear to God that whatever you think I’ve done, or who you think I am—I’m not that girl. Please,” she pleads, as they all do.

But my slight wobble meant I was, just once, considering her point of view. Her brown hair swayed aggressively as the wind continued to howl and lifted her skirt enough to show the small mushroom inking on her right calf. I had chosen today, of all days, to do this because of the terrible weather.

Composing myself, and remembering who I was and what I was doing.

Everyone pleads in your position, guilty or not. It’s irrelevant.

She was lighter than I expected as I held her hands, stroking her palms with my thumbs before giving her the lightest of pushes.

Her cries were drowned out by the waves, and by her skull striking the cliff face below.

That was different. That whole incident.

Staring out to sea for longer than I should, it felt as if a new battle had begun. One that threatened my perfected system.