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Jenny Was a Friend of Mine

Jenny Was a Friend of Mine

By Cookies

The room was cold, sterile. I leaned back in my chair and rested my elbows on the chair’s arms. I stared at the steel table in front of me, since there was really nothing else to see. I tapped my foot nervously as I waited. I turned my head slightly and was greeted by my reflection. The one-way mirror was so big that it almost took up a whole wall. The worst part of all this was that I knew they were watching me, studying my behavior.

I sighed massively and tilted my head back. The ceiling was the exact same as the rest of the room: grey and boring. I started gnawing on my cheek absently as seconds stretched to minutes and time kept on ticking.

Finally, someone opened the door with a creak. My head whipped around to see a grey-haired man with a wrinkled forehead. His blue eyes looked tired and aged.

“Hello, Brandon,” he greeted in a really deep voice. “I am Officer Thatcher.”

I ignored his kindness. “Why am I here?”

He sighed heavily. “It’s about Jennifer.”

I tried to act innocent. “Jenny was a friend of mine.”

Officer Thatcher stared at me. “We have a witness, Brandon. We know you killed Jennifer.”

I gritted my teeth and studied the floor.

“I have a deal for you,” Officer Thatcher said. “You confess everything and we shorten your sentence by a few years. Sound good?”

I nodded. It was over anyways. I was caught.

“Okay, now, what happened?”

I took a deep breath. “We were walking in the rain . . ."

Then I was there. I could see Jenny, her hair soaked and her mouth pulled down in a frown. I could smell her shampoo and feel her hand in mine. Earlier that day, we’d had a fight. She wanted me to meet her parents, but I wasn’t ready to. And I told her that, like I had all the other times she’d tried to talk me into it. But this time she got mad and started yelling. Her yelling made me mad and I started yelling back.

She stomped off the porch and into the rain, screaming that she didn’t want to see me anymore. I cursed and chased after her. Even though I was still mad, I grabbed her hand and squeezed.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just kind of on edge today.”

She nodded, but pulled her hand away from mine.

“Jenny?”

“What?” she hissed.

“I’m really sorry okay? I just can’t meet your parents yet.”

She sucked in a deep breath and I could hear her struggling to keep a hold on herself. “Look, Brandon—”

“Jenny, I love you,” I said all in a rush. I couldn’t lose her.

She didn’t look at me. “I love you too, but I have somewhere to go.”

She started jogging away from me, and I just watched. She pulled her hood over her wet curls and then stuffed her hands in her pockets.

No. We were not done talking. “Jenny!” I called.

I ran full speed after her. She stopped jogging and turned to face me. I grabbed her and put my lips on hers. She squirmed away, not even letting the kiss last for three seconds.

“Brandon, I really do have to go.”

She wrestled out of my grasp and continued to walk away. Rage flared in me. I grabbed her again and turned her towards me.

“Brand—”

She was cut off when I wrapped my hands around her neck and squeezed. Hard. She flailed and tried to get away, but I held a strong grip. She collapsed to the slick pavement and I went down with her. My grip on her neck didn’t loosen until she went completely still.

“Oh my God!” I shrieked when I looked down at her dead face. I’d killed her. I looked around frantically to see if there were any people around. Luckily I was alone with Jenny’s corpse.

A cry escaped my lips. I bent and kissed her cheek, wishing I’d controlled myself. I loved her, and I’d killed her. I rushed back into my house, leaving her on the ground.

When I was done telling my story, I was crying. “I’m so sorry, Jenny,” I panted. Officer Thatcher looked at me painfully.

Then he stood up and headed for the door. Only minutes after he left, two other policemen came into my “cell” and escorted me out. I didn’t struggle against them as they handcuffed me.

“Jenny . . .” I found myself muttering as they walked me to the police car. “Jenny. Jenny, I’m so sorry. Oh, Jenny. Jenny . . .”

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About The Author
Cookies
Cookies
About This Story
Audience:
PG
Posted:
12 Aug, 2011
Type:
Sad
Words:
790
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0
Views:
2,420

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