October 28, 1995
Daleville, Alabama
Confession of Linda Ann Roberts
In Her Own Words...

You wanna confession? Okay, I’ll give you a confession.

Yeah, okay, I shot ‘em. I don’t even know why. I just did. Roger was the nicest man anyone could ever meet. You could say I loved the guy… Well, not as much as a wife should, but he was always nice. I guess in the end that’s why. He was always nice. Nice, sweet Roger, always helping’ people. He was always gettin’ on my bad side. Sure, I never showed it, but he did get on my nerves. The way his voice was soft and carin’. It just bugged me to no end.

And then that other guy. He was a mistake. Yeah, sure, the whole thing was mistake, but he wasn’t even suppose to be there. So, he saw and the poor guy just got shot too. Who would have expected it? No one. I am once again surprising everyone with my confession.

Well, I guess you wanna know the details. Everyone wants to know the details.

People who knew Roger knew he always had a gun in his house. Though why he ever thought he could shoot someone is beyond me. That was the weapon. You can find it layin’ on the kitchen table at the house. Loaded, with 3 bullets missin’. I never had handled a gun before and to think I got Roger on the first try. I shot him in the head and I know that surely as I know my name’s Linda Roberts, the new widow in town.

I guess the most disappointin’ thing ‘bout it was I didn’t feel anything. Not happiness, not sadness… nothin’. Not even a single thing for that stupid pizza boy after. That why I’m here. I don’t care. Now, not carin’ and havin’ no emotion are two different things. It ya truly wanna know, I feel like slime at the bottom of the lake. Green, gooey, and sick. It’s not ‘cause of Roger. He could come through the door right now and I wouldn’t feel any different. I’d probably shake his hand, and ask him how he came back.

I don’t know why I feel like slime, I just do. It could be that I’m in the police station tellin’ you guys. I’m evil, I know it. I also know I’m gonna be put in the chair for it. Roger was the only thing I had and I shot him. Oh. That’s why I feel like slime. I have no one. No one at all. For once I care about it.

Put me in some handcuffs boys ‘cause I got no one. No one at all.

---

A/N: i wrote this for my theatre arts class as a monologue. i got a 57 because i only did this half of the project. lol. i thought it was pretty good. it's short but i like it. hope you guys do.

andhearts!