Innocent: Part I
Someone once asked me a strange question. It was a girl, a college student maybe twenty years old, doing a report on me for her professor. The assignment was entitled, "Murderers of the Modern Era". She was quite well informed about my case, and managed to babble for fifteen minutes straight saying how brilliantly planned the operation was and that she thought it was fit for one of those cop shows or something.
Then she asked that strange question, "What's it like?"
"What's what like?" I countered.
"Murder," she shrugged, as if stating the obvious.
"How on earth should I know?''
"I dunno, maybe 'cause you're in jail for it."
"Let's get a few things straight," I said, getting ticked at her arrogant sarcasm. "I did not kill or harm anyone. I was arrested as a suspect for the murder of Mr. Jonathan Wilson, a man I hadn't even heard of until that time. My lawyer suggested that I remain quiet during the trial; I followed his advice. The jury found me guilty as charged and I was sentenced to twenty-five years in the state prison. This happened a decade ago. Technology wasn't so good and my lawyer lost his appeals. He said that the justice system was apt to make mistakes and that it was my own rotten luck for being caught."
Here I think she mumbled an "oh" before I continued," You are a guest, a visitor, I do not have to see you. If you wish to waste my time asking pointless questions I shall call the guard and leave."
That shut her up and she left shortly thereafter. And yet, I might've been happier had she kept talking. I get too much silence here. There's no one worth a conversation in jail. I get bored by them rather quickly.
I have spent twenty-five years in this hellish place. A quarter of a century, more than half my life, has been wasted. I am innocent, but the world knows me as a murderess. The funny thing is tomorrow I'll be released. Tomorrow I'll be free. Tomorrow I can start hunting the bastard who put me in here. Tomorrow I can have some fun.