The Murderer Who Wasn't a Monster Ch 2
Her name was Diana Rose. She was my girlfriend.
But now she's with her crusty white father. He probably sedates her every night before they have sex. It sickens me. I don't even wanna know anymore how she's doing in life.
I'm 20, I believe now, and so is she. And she knows nothing else but relying on his money and fucking him. I have not seen her since we were 18, when I first got in here.
"Darryl," I remember her saying as we were on the prison phone line. She was crying so bad. I've never seen her cry this much. "I have to say goodbye."
"Why babe?" I asked calmly. I wasn't mad or upset, just quietly concerned. "Talk to me."
"He's come to take me away. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry."
She hung up and ran out of the room so fast to prevent me from seeing her in complete anguish.
I couldn't even move.
"Darryl," the security guard said, "it's time to go back to your cell."
I just watched the empty stool my girlfriend had just sat in, how empty I was inside.
"Darryl, it's time to go back to your damn room," she spoke louder- the security guard, I mean. A black, angry woman.
But right now, a white Santa looking man is speaking to me. We're in the lunch area I guess?
I don't know nor care.
"Son, are you okay?" he says, touching my shoulder, trying to be comforting.
I blink. "Please don't touch me."
"Sorry, boy. I just see you here everyday looking like a train hit you really hard. I really worry about cha."
"No one worries about me," I say, hand in cheek, just staring.
"What's going on, son? Do you know where you are?"
"Do you know which one?"
"Do you know why you're even in here?"
I look to the floor. It's white. "I don't know why you are even asking these questions."
"I just ask because I'm concerned."
I can't even look at the man. Because all I see in my mind is Diana begging for her father to stop fucking her. "Why are you here?"
"I'm here because I killed a man who molested my daughter."
I smile just a little. "Your daughter must be proud."
"But boy, do you know why you're in here?"
"I killed a man as well."
"My father, although I wish I had killed him instead."
"Who's him, son?"
I hate that this man keeps calling me son. "My girlfriend's father."
"Why? What did he do?"
"He's sleeping with her."
"Is he still alive?"
"There must be something we can do. Or something that can be done."
"There's nothing that can be done. He lied to the cops and said I raped her. They believe him over me."
"I don't understand."
I keep looking at the floor. It's still white. "Good. Don't."
"I just wanted to say that if there's anything I can do to help you, please, please let me know."
I keep looking down. I can barely talk. I can barely even function or live anymore. "I can't be helped. I'm a lost cause. I'm not worth any effort honestly."
"God thinks differently, you know that?"
"I don't think I know him at all."
I finally look up at me, and he looks at me the loving way my father never did. "I think you know him better than you think."
He then stands up and walks away. Lunch time is over. Back to my cell.
"Who was that man?" I ask out loud.