The shrieks and giggles of playing children were overwhelming. Parents let them run and play to their hearts content as if nothing were wrong. It’s only been a year since that day. Only one year since she was stolen from me, and left me alone. Why? Why did she have to die alone? I was about to propose and we were so happy. I was happy. That day plagues me still. The moment I realized she wasn’t coming home; the day the police came to ask me questions about her habits and hobbies. I was in shock then, but now it all feels like I’m carrying two large holders with my heart alone. I sat on the park bench, tears streaming down my reddening cheeks, as I continued to recall the day. When I took the dog for a walk in this very park, our park, the day after she was reported missing. The dog’s rabid barking as he tried to jerk off his leash and run onto the forest hiking trail. He ran for what felt like hours before I came into the clearing he sprinted to. Then, before my very eyes, was my girlfriend Jessica laying face up in the grass. I dropped the torn leash and ran to her, crying all the while. I begged her to look at me, to talk to me. It never happened, because she was dead. I wanted to stay with her til the end, but somehow the police just appeared and dragged me away from her. Why do they keep calling her a victim? Why is everyone from the trail just standing and watching like it’s some kind of show? Why did I just see someone take a picture? That was the last straw. I ran at the officer that was in front of me and took his gun. I held it up toward the man who took the picture and fired. Everything after that was a blur. The judge said I was mentally ill and was provoked, so they only gave me a year. That is where I am now. A year later and still longing for this park to stop being a graveyard in my eyes.