My solitude had grown wary but today, yes today was the day where I would change that, finally. Today is the day where I tell you my story, the story that has brought me to this place and time to tell you all from a different world…
I had every-thing people would dream and describe happiness is. The diamonds, the cars, the watches, the latest technology and lets not forget the mansion. I had everything that society says can bring peace and happiness, I had money and security. But I didn’t have him.
I was alone with everything we had built together. I would wake up with the pain of what had happened and an empty space next to me as I turned over. This was, every…single…day. I stopped smiling, laughing, dancing and cooking in the kitchen amongst all of the quirky hanging signs we had picked out together. I was a demoralising presence to be around. Yet I couldn’t change. They say heartache is meant to get better, eventually one day, but it wasn’t going to for me.
I watched them kill him. Watched them propel the knife back and forth, immediately penetrating through his skin and into his body. They had a hold of me. I kicked and shoved and bit with all of my might trying to get them off me, trying to get to him, my love, my life, before it was too late. My wail was piercing, I wanted them to do something, anything, stop it. They could of taken everything off of me; the diamonds, the cars, the watches and the mansion. I wouldn’t of cared…but they took him. The piece of my life that matched my heart and soul. The piece that took me as far away from the solitude that wore thin in my eyes and my heart from gut wrenching loneliness. I saw him struggling, saw him helpless, I saw him losing his breath, I saw him look at me as he was dying before my eyes. I saw his lips mouth “I love you” before he collapsed to the floor with nothing left to save him. I saw him die.
They did that to him. They did that to us. Those four men whom had been hired as hit men to solve a drug insolvency. Those four men that were idiotic enough to be involved in a murder, let alone the murder of an honest innocent man. My man. Destroyed his life and mine. They slaughtered him as if he was nothing, they didn’t listen to my scream. They weren’t going to hear us out, there mission was to kill.
I waited approximately five hundred and two days in solitude before it grew wary. I was in unbelievable pain, silence and loneliness every day. Nothing I did was good enough, absolutely nothing took the pain away. Only he could. I needed to be with him, I couldn’t go on without him. I wanted the security and happiness that oozed off of his character back. I needed him.
Which is why on that dark dreary day in Wolverhampton I decided my solitude was over, it had worn thin…
I was found hanging from the balcony in my mansion, surrounded by the riches and lavish things in a home we had built together. I had so much going for me, we had so much planned for our future, yet it was all destroyed. Only to be found by that mail man the next morning. It was over. That’s it, that’s my story. That is how I died, wanting to be with him.