Melanie
Florida. Six years ago
A week later…
I've been here for a week and no one comes to speak to me, except when I need to use the bathroom or eat. Most times I don't eat. I leave the food.
I'm locked in a little cell that has only a small bed. There's a tiny window and I can smell water somewhere. I'm still dressed in the clothes I had on the night my family was killed. I still smell their blood. I sink to the ground and cry bitterly again. I've been crying ever since. The pain just doesn't go away. It remains and still constricts my chest.
I keep seeing how they were killed. I keep seeing how dad looked at me with this resigned look. I wail and my voice echoes. No one can hear my cry. I'm all alone in this world.
