If I could turn back the hands of time I would do it again. I didn’t get found out, so why not?
My conscience is clear. I did what I had to do and could you honestly say you wouldn’t have done the same?
Was it really more than 40 years ago? I won’t pretend that hardly a day has gone by without my worrying about it. I haven’t given it a moment’s thought since that night.
I went to college as usual the following day. Nobody knew about it. There was nothing on the radio and none of us read newspapers. Of course, there was no internet back then. I had no friends so there weren’t questions about ‘what did you do at the weekend?’
My landlady wasn’t suspicious. I did my own washing, so I just took it all to the launderette. I did keep one piece for a souvenir, but I mislaid that years ago during a house move.
I expected the police to be more involved. In a television show they’d put a top cop on it. Someone like Vera; my mum thinks she’s very good.
I went back a week later. Midnight it was. You’d never have known that something had happened. Not a leaf out of place. No marks. No blood.
I never did it again. No need to make a habit of it. It wasn’t a vocation. I have no religion.
So, don’t anyone be alarmed, you’re quite safe with me.
I promise.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 