day, every night
the love of my life
- I first saw her three years ago, on a subway. It was a plain and
unremarkable day. Still, doesn’t matter. The main thing is that morning brought
to my life that controversial and scary feeling, pain, doubt, and most
importantly – the thing I had to decide on was beyond me. When someone trusts
you, opens up the depths of one’s soul, it is hard to know what to do with it –
either to seal it in the memory, or to use and betray the trust placed in you. On
that day, as always here in New York, smog and crowd reigned. Stoically
enduring all that is inherent to the large masses of people, I was patiently
waiting until a slow measured voice announced the end of this unpleasant
morning procedure. Instead, a people wave rushed past me, carrying two girlfriends,
who were enthusiastically chatting about something. I could not make a
proper impression of the first one as I saw her from the back. The other recovered
her breath after an unequal fight with the crowd and dragged the unconscious
gaze through the hemisphere in front of her. I stared her in the eye, and she
stared back. She was the most beautiful creature ever encountered by me. I’m
not lying. Every single one possesses some beauty, sympathy, fascination,
charm and marvel, but it is usual that one thing dominates. The most
remarkable feature about her were her eyes, like two bright topazes illuminating
so intensely that it seemed as if that blue light-emitting color covered her
eye entirely. The effect was intensified by her ashen skin, symmetrical
facial features, slightly opened sensual mouth and the falling tiara of her blonde
hair. She was seducing my heart with those icy glass eyes of hers,
scorching with coldness, though inviting. She got out two stations later,
but not before she had inserted in my open palm the ten digits she clawed on a
sheet of her scrapbook.
was perfect. But as I never saw her smile, I concluded she kept a secret
to unravel the mystery of which I could not manage. She always was quiet
and calm and sensible, and smart. We spent the little time we had enjoying
each other's company. She was not emotional, on the contrary, she seldom
laughed, and, I saw much oftener a seal of peace on her face. Guess she
loved me. No, I know for sure. And she trusted me. Not entirely, but
I never insisted on full openness.
The course of time significantly changed everything. I acquired a
house of mine, so I asked her one day to move together. She agreed, smiling
with her glowing cold eyes rather than lips. A two-week trip to Puerto
Rico was also agreed upon. She never stayed at my place before that for
more than two days. I was happy to spend so many hours by her side. She
also seemed like it. But on the eve of leaving she grew noticeably
nervous. Well, nervous is not the word. She strived to say something, and I had
a feeling it had to be something important both for her and for me. But she
could not go for it. Again, I did not insist, believing that the time
would come. Finally, a few minutes before the time zero that we had
to go to the airport, she came up to me so hesitantly, and gently placed her
hand on my shoulder.
Hey, she says, I need to tell you something.
I eagerly respond.
Something important, she says.
Okay, I answer
About me, she continues.
I firmly put her by my side. I sat down on right in front of her, revealing
to her that my whole being was all ears, although on the inside I trembled and
shaped up. I had no idea that she wanted to convey, was, internally of
course, shocked and went through all the options, willing to accept any truth
for the sake of it. Frankly, I was afraid to listen to her. Well, of
course, it could have been any nonsense, which is so often a matter of
importance in the world we live in.
She pleads, I'll tell you something, and you yourself
decide, whether we'll go or not.
An awkward silence was drawn.
I'm sick. I'm an addict. It is beyond me,
she blurts it all out and closes her eyes. Sighs.
I pull myself up not to reply immediately
with those empty the encouraging words that slip off the tongue in such
Assuming the main thing had been said, I just took her hand, and wanted to utter
something like hey, together we make it, as she puts her finger to my lip and
I do not want this, she says, but
I regularly need a dose.
I understand, I respond.
You do not seem to understand, sadly she
Silence hit again. I looked at her arms. There were no trace of
What is it that you do, I ask her.
For the first time since the beginning of the convo, these topaz eyes met mine,
and I saw them fighting pain and fear, how much it costs to give away this
She replies plainly in a hollow metallic voice, I kill.
I got petrified.
I stopped following her, and but she still kept right on,
I kill at night. Once or twice a month something
wakes up inside of me. So I get dressed up and go out. I do not know
what drives me, you know. I tried to fight it, I choked on sleeping pills,
I shot sedatives, I did what I could. But
it's stronger than me. I chose my victims I do not know how, and kill with
whatever is at hand.
It broke through her, and it was terrible – she was enjoying every word she
I like it. Well, rather, I do not like. But
there so much euphoria. Like
narcotics. This is my heroin. My curse. As if I am no longer
myself. Nothing hints on me, I never arouse suspicions. I guess I am
sick. You've never seen it yet, but listen. I do not know if I can control
myself and not to leave at night over the next two weeks. I just have no
Tears rolled down her cheeks so I gently hugged her. We both were sucked
out and terrified.
However, the two weeks passed quietly, joyfully, peacefully and
pleasantly. She never showed any signs of her malady
I sleep light, that’s why I am sure - she
never escaped the room out at night. I do not know what it cost her. We
were good together and we were happy as ever. So on the last full day
before leaving, early in the morning while I was dressing for breakfast, I
heard her sparse voice, the police are here.
I was taken aback and glanced at her. She was also perplexed, I swear. We
stood still, until a commanding knock at the door woke us up from the slumber.
Who is that, I shout.
I was told that as soon as we were ready, we were
asked to go to the main lobby. The officer retired, and I, holding her
hand in alarm and bewilderment, patiently waited for ten minutes. Off we
The picture calmed us down - there were too many people lined up in four lanes,
quite a number of police officers was busy typing. My turn came. I relayed
my name, date of birth, dates of arrival and departure, and where I was last
night from 12 to 4 am, what I did and if someone could confirm this. Then I waited
for her. She seemed calm about everything, they did not ask her about
anything particular too. I inferred
that it all was about some robbery as I overheard the police conversation about a
brutal triple murder.
Soon, we were dismissed. We went to our room, and I looked at her with a silent
question, horrified. She just shook her head. I believed her, but the
seeds of suspicion have been sewn. She got it. The next day we flew
home. A week later she finally moved to my place.
I loved her very much, honestly.
The more I adored her, the more her tears resonated in me a with a dull pain. She would often lie beside me and silently weep. I
would pretend not to notice. What on earth could I do? What could I
say? I tearlessly wept along. And sometimes she would smile in her
sleep. It was so wonderful that she was dreaming peacefully with her face
illuminated by a naive, but such a happy grin.
I had absolutely no idea what had to be done.
Ah, yes. She would go out at night ... and come just before dawn. From time to time. It was becoming substantially
rare. But every time she returned she would lock herself for hours in the
bathroom. I do not know what she was doing. My guess would be,
praying and crying. And then she would share a breakfast with me. Nothing
disturbed the silence, and her face was kind of apologetic, as if of a
prankster girl. Can you understand? A couple of hours ago, she screwed
a coach bolt into someone’s brain, or broke someone’s larynx with the tip of
her fingers, and later, sat with an air of an infant!
Hell no, she was aware of that even better than I was. And it hurt. I
remember those nights when she would stay, when she got up, dressed up, I heard
a click of a the door lock ... and a couple of minutes later, the sound of the
key turning in an opposite direction. And so she came back into the room, bathing in sweat, so pale and trembling, and sat in the corner of the bedroom, taking
her head in her hands.
Pathetic being, she struggled with herself, struggled the best she could, and
when her own self was defeated, her face would glow in a warming smile. And
during those fights I thought her heart was hemorrhaging with life itself.
It was hard on me too. At night, when she was there, I either was happy she
was around, or could not sleep because of her sufferings. And when she would
leave, I would flip. I was so afraid of losing her, I was so afraid that
she would not come back, that I could not see her again. I was so eager to look into her eyes during those
moments. And with that feeling I also thought myself to be a silent
accomplice, an accomplice of all her crimes.
No, I never tried to force her to stay. It just never occurred to me. She
probably would have killed me ... I do not
I could not leave her either, I knew she trusted me, she needed me ...
Though, seldom, when she was next to me, I
wished she was not there! I wanted her to disappear.
But I was so much in love. And I said nothing ...
What should I have done? Either rat her out or be silent, betray the one
who loved me, ditch her, and crush her, throw under the bus ...
I could not do it, even knowing that she punctuates lives of people who had
their own desires, dreams, aspirations, that the broken doll in a body bag, was,
in fact, hurrying home, carrying some
gifts for children ...
Still, I could not, because she trusted me. She stood up and told
me. And if I wanted to give her away, I had to do it at the very moment of
her confession. But I did not do anything, I was hoping that our love would
withstand it all no matter what.
And yes, I regretted it, regretted a thousand times.
And sometimes would not think about
it at all. Under no conditions could I betray her love for me. And she loved
me tenderly and truly. Listen, we were so wonderfully spending time
together. Ice cream made her tick. Chocolate
one, especially. We would always have our freezer stocked. She loved
the fall, would collect maple leaves, make a bouquet out of them ... She was so
And sometimes I felt so dreadful.
I kept silence, but every time I passed a police station, I looked at it as if
hypnotized. I even dropped by a couple of times. But I always stranded
away not daring to speak. I did not know what to do. I still have no
idea what I was supposed to do.
It was all beyond me. I did not want to lose her, and at the very same
time longed her to disappear, I loved
and hated her, I was afraid both for her and for myself ...
I was so devastated and destroyed by her,
by myself. I do not know ... Oh God, I do not know ...
I am done, Your Honor.
- Thank you, defendant. You may be seated. Miss Elliott murder
hearing will continue after a short recess.