i could hear the sirens from miles away, only revealing further to myself what i had really done. the feeling of metal on my red hands, resting on the leathery seats of that police car, was nothing but foreign. I was accustomed to the law, i had had my fair share of misdemeanors, but nothing like that, like what i had done that ungodly day. The interview was even worse.

“Hello, mary, right?”

“um, yeah”

“so, i assume you know why youre here sith me today”

“because of my dad?”

“yes. im not interrogating you, im just here for your basic information, now you will proceed with the intensive interrogation process”

the good cop who once layed eyes on my poor youthful soul left, for an older man to enter.

“lets cut right to the chase, why did you do it?”

“My mom always said she hated her life; she hated her life because of me, and my dad. The screaming was becoming too much, and i couldnt handle it. I helped her, i released her, set her free; whats wrong with that? i love my mother, i love her pancakes and her soft voice. MY fathers voice was cold, and edged, like an unshaprened blade. IM proud of what i did.”

“we found these tapes at the scene, please watch,”

the images on screen resonated deep in my stomach, like moths filling up my intestines. i guess in the moment i didnt realize how much blood was on the floor, but from that angle you could see every wound, clear as day

“do you recall recording this”

“yes, i do, and fuck, did i do a good job”