They led me into the court room. I could smell the sweat from their black
uniforms due to endless struggles with criminals. So confused yet I obliged, the batons hanging from their belt holsters were not a welcoming sight, I looked rough and unkempt
"This dos'nt seem right"
Last night I slept in pyjamas but this morning I woke up in a hideous orange uniform, with cuffs for bangles and shackles for anklets. The sounds of the chains on my feet were barely audible but knowing that they were the huntsmen of my freedom made the sounds so loud and unbearable.
I kept my head down at all times, the policeman asked me to sit. It felt like a dream, all so unreal
"I'd close my eyes and I'd wake up in bed"
But it was only a wish, the irony of this night mare I had woken up to. I was frozen in my seat. I couldn't move my head backward or forward, I just sat there. I knew they were watching me closely wishing I would turn just for a second. I couldn't do it, couldn't bear to see the questions in their eyes questions I had no answers to. Even if I knew what I did, I couldn't explain why I did it, so I sat there waiting eagerly like the rest of the gallery...
Waiting to hear my case...

THE NIGHT BEFORE....

She sat on the sofa in their state of the art NYC home. The cold stare in her eyes would have pierced through the mahogany walls if it was not one of the strongest woods in the world.
Her phone must have fallen somewhere when she received the envelope earlier that evening, it was ringing faintly non stop but she was too stiff to figure out where the phone might have been. Her right hand caressed an 18inch axe as she sipped on a blood red wine waiting for the "bastard" to return home.
The evidence lay on her lap, some had dropped to the marble floor. Her spy had done a perfect job, perhaps far too explicit a job.
Travelling on so called business trips for weeks on end was one thing she was learning to accept from him but keeping himself occupied in their malibu beach house was one thing she couldn't take. Besides she had worked so hard to sustain this marriage and she wasn't about to let it end in a divorce, it had to be something else.
She heard the door opening downstairs, he had walked in quietly and straight into his chambers.
He would send for her soon.
"The pig"
She sipped some more wine carefully trying not to smear her bright red lipstick. She had worn the black and red corset and knickers, the one he got for her two valentines ago just as he instructed.
Five minutes later the intercom rang

"Right on cue" she whispered as she picked up the phone

"I'm waiting for you"

The sound of his voice made her hate him even more. All that love she once had for him had crossed the line. It was now something dark, something she couldn't recognise. People called it hate but she saw it as yet another passing phase.
She walked into his red lit chamber. He sat topless on a cushion stool facing the window that gave the most beautiful view of the city. He always smoked his cuba out that window
"The view for a god" as he called it.
He never looked at her until she was laying on the bed but little did he know that tonight would be different. She had pre- meditated this all evening and now she was ready, she walked into the room dragging the axe on the white sheep skin rug. She stood behind her husband, best friend and first love, though those were a cliché now, mere terms that made her relationship with this man sane.

"Are you wearing my favourite corset?"

"Yes I am" she chocked back the tears that tried to betray her.

"Good" he said, taking a deep drag on his cigar blowing out a blinding amount of smoke in the air.

"Come, dance for me"

He never turned back, never acknowledged her presence. She had become a toy, an object for the satisfaction of his wild desire. She used to be more but he had gotten weary of loving her like before. After all he had given her everything and this was the least she could do in return.
She stood there wishing he would turn and look at her for the last time. But he didn't, he just sat there so selfish, so proud. Now she was enraged her eyes were blood shot, she had never been this angry ever in her life...

"I'm waiti...... he started to say

To Be Continued...
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sweety abeg if u no wan make our luv die instanta..beta hurry update else..na our CASE go dey court.. nice write up dear

Loollz thank you.. I'd post this night

THE CASE CONTINUES...

''She sat there in his blood your honour and that's where we found her".

The court was dead silent, I deliberately ignored the cliché of how loud a pin falling on the floor would have been because I was shocked and in no mood to create any form of humour.

"We have picture evidence your honour, lab tests proove that she did it, her finger prints are all over the crime scene and the murder weapon, this is clear murder this woman killed her husband"

I sat there numbed by the story I had just heard, the accusations didn't even pierce my heart as deep as the story did ... "Clinton is dead" I wiped the tears that escaped from my eyes with the back of my hand. It was too much for me to take in. I mean I love clinton, he cant be dead especially not by my hands no! This was impossible "No!" I didn't even realise when I screamed, I could feel all the eyes starring at me, deep into me.

"Mrs stevenson you deny these charges?"

The prosecutor was a stern looking man, I avoided eye contact with him at all times I just sat there crying.

"I didn't kill my husband, I couldn't have! I love him"

I blurted out the words as if they were stolen, I couldn't believe I was saying them. All the evidence against me screamed guilty.

"How can you say you love him?! You butchered your husband with an axe and you claim to love him?! What was your motive mrs stevenson? Money, Jealousy, satisfaction? Look! Look what you did!"

He began showing me pictures of the crime scene there was blood everywhere I was crying, trying to use my hands to stop myself from sobbing too loud. The last picture he showed me was the strangest one of all the pictures...

"Objection my lord"

My lawyer came to my rescue,

"Sustained, Mr Parker there would be no harassment of the defendant in my court room"

"Very well your honour, no further questions"

I watched Mr Parker walk back to his seat, what did he have against me anyway? Its not like he was a friend of my husband or anything, I couldn't understand why he was being so emotional. A part of me was beginning to believe that I had actually killed my husband, maybe I killed my clinton.
My lawyer looked at me helplessly, it was almost as if I was the only person left in my defence.
I pulled myself together non the less anticipating what he had to say, though I felt there was nothing else he could do

"Your honour my client has no memory of this crime, this is as a result of amnesia a condition that when its extreme, can cause a patient to develop bipolar disorder making her prone to violence when provoked and eventual forgetfulness...,

I just sat there watching my lawyer do his best at defending me. It felt useless, besides I had already pled guilty a million times over in my mind

".....my client loved her husband and this was not her will your honour. I rest my case"

__________________________

I sat behind bars once again. The judges verdict kept ringing in my head

" ...guilty on all counts...."

It didn't surprise me as much as it did the rest of the court, I had already accepted my fate. I remember looking at my lawyer as I was dragged out well led out of the court he mouthed something like an encouragement to me but I couldn't make it out.
Maybe they were right, maybe I was sane when I killed him.

"I just don't know"

My tears were choking me, it made my throat hurt so bad.
I thought about the last picture I had seen in mr parkers hand, the strange one that confused me, I mean if truely I had killed clinton in his chambers and sat there till the police arrived, then why did the surveillance picture show a figure of a person standing at the dark corner of clinton's bed, was it possible that......

"You are coming with us now Mrs Stevenson"

The hangman grabbed my right arm.

"No wait! You don't understand this must be a mistake"

I didn't know what else to say, its true I had a medical condition and I may have thought of killing him but I didn't have the guts to do it... Or did I?

"No please you have to believe that I'm innocent, there was someone there that night...."

Did my vague inference and accusations mean anything right now? I really doubted it though. I couldn't control my tears I just kept sobbing quietly and then I saw it...

The gruesome instrument of my execution. I tried to prepare myself to accept it but it felt too uncomfortable

"Where is my mommy"

I felt so little and afraid. There was a scanty audience waiting to witness my execution. I was led up a platform, it was creaking with age and I felt like I would fall through and never stop falling... I started to look up at the audience but a black bag was placed over my head, in those few seconds I got a glance at my mother she was crying endlessly. My heart sank I couldn't believe this was me...

"How did you get here Amy?"

The priest said the prayer as though he was being forced to do it. I couldn't care less I deserved to go to hell anyway. I felt the hands setting the rope around my neck, it was as if I had just been submerged in ice cold water, I closed my eyes tight and said the words any way

"Forgive me Father for I have si.......

______________________________

3:45am Sunday Morning

I woke up breathing extremely hard. My body was drenched in sweat...

"Amy! What is it?!!"

Clinton's eyes were wide with fear and concern...

"Clinton my baby"

I hugged him so hard he groaned in pain, I felt his muscles relax as he hugged me back

"It was only a dream my love"

He stroked my hair softly, never letting go of me. My eyes were closed all the while, so scared but relived at the same time. I smelt something burning

"What's that?"

"Its nothing dear just a few papers I threw into the fire place"

Clinton knew how I felt about burning papers in the house but I wasn't ready to scold him I was just grateful it was all a dream.
I held on to him for a few more minutes then finally I opened my eyes my heart began to race uncontrollably leaning awkwardly on the wall opposite clinton's bed was the axe.

THE END