I was driving at 85. The night was darker than it should have been. There was nothing on the road, not in the windshield, not in the mirrors. I was so sure that we were not coming back. That we would go into the dark and then never appear at the other side of the road. She lay on the back seat staring at me like a voodoo doll. Oh, and she was dead. Did I tell you she was dead? She was. The wind whistled past me through the window like running away from something. The trees beside the road ran back. I looked at her once and she blinked. I turned back and focused on the road.
The rain had stopped an hour back. The smell of wet soil mixed with green leaves and crushed concrete effervesced like it does when it rains in forests. There was the smell of dead meat, rank and poignant, climbing slowly to my head. She had no clothes on. And she was soaked in her sweat. Did I tell you she was soaked in her sweat? She was. I was too. Not in hers. Mine. Her sweat was tasteful, mine is all gummy and disgusting and nauseating. That’s why I had kept my window open even though I shivered. I didn’t have my clothes either. I didn’t tell you that as well, did I? My jawline was freezing and my teeth clattered and my chest was red and hurting. I looked back at her once again and she smiled. I smiled back and cupped my hands over my face for a second and breathed into them. Warm and diffusing like late night winter hearth.
“Can I come in front?” She asked. Her voice was soft like cotton candy, melting and sweet.
“It’s cold here. And the road is dark too. You won’t like it.”
“It will be ok.” Her head rested on her arm. “Please.”
I didn’t like the squeal in her voice. She was a strong lady. I didn’t like her saying please to me. I never like women saying please to me. I feel like, you know, I am some sort of chauvinist. Oppressing them. I stopped the car and got down without saying anything. I went to the other side and opened the door for her and helped her getting out. Her legs were still bleeding, so she couldn’t.. Oh shit! I forgot again. I am really sorry. I.. I am not really a good storyteller and this is not an easy one to tell. I was never a good storyteller. Even when my dad asked me to tell stories to my sister, I made up some weird stuff. She finally had to tell him that she didn’t want to hear stories from me. So, pardon me, please.
I helped her settling in the front seat and there we were on the road again. She beside me. Sitting straight and motionless like a mannequin carved out of white marble. The moon shone on her skin so bright that I wondered for a moment if she was silver. Her head was towards me. Her eyes stared at me and not at the road. I realized it then that she wanted to be with me before it all ended.
“You are supposed to be dead, you know.” I said.
“Why did you have to bring that up?”
“Because I had to. We can’t just ignore it, can we?”
She didn’t say anything.
“I am sorry.”
“There is nothing to apologize for.” She replied.
I turned the car into the woods and it started raining again. The drops were loud like crackers on the roof of the car. I started looking around in the trees, drops falling in already mellowed soil like.. like.. like water does in mud, you know. I stopped the car and looked at her.
“Is this the place?” She asked.
“Oh.” She was sad. Even though her expressions didn’t change. I mean they couldn’t, right? She was dead. But I knew in her voice that she was sad. She didn’t want to go.
“I will keep coming to visit you.”
“No, you won’t.”
I didn’t say anything. I opened the door and went out. I took out the spade from the trunk and started digging in the ground. It didn’t take much time. The soil was soft already. I helped her coming out of the car and lay her on the ground right beside the hole I had dug for her.
“Hey.” Those drowsy needy eyes.
“Make love to me. Please. One last time.”
I don’t know why she even said that. We had made love just before leaving. I nodded slowly and we made love. When I stood up back over her, there were tears flowing down her eyes. I closed them. I stood there watching her for some time but she didn’t open them back. Then, I slid her slowly into the hole and filled it with mud.
The man who had introduced himself as the head of this police station stares at me like I am an alien. He turns his head to the other man in uniform sitting beside him and looks back at me. I slide my cuffed hands towards his on the table between us. He is not sweating but I can smell it on him. Both of them. Surprising. It isn’t that hot here.
“This is it.” I say. “That’s what happened.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” The same stare. “So, why did you murder her?”
I lower my head and shake it slowly but even before I can say something, the other man, the one who had arrested me for speeding, he presses his thigh slowly.
“I mean.” He presses his lips and speaks again. “Why did you take her life?”
“Hmm.” I smile and look straight at him. “That, sir, is one unbelievable story. Trust me.” I start laughing. “You.. you won’t believe it.”
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