A few weeks had passed; a few weeks in which my life had been turned upside down. The person, who I had dreamed about and planned to spend the rest of my life with, was gone. Just like that. No time in this world now could ever make up for what I had painfully lost. She was my life. Oh Becky!!!
All I see every time I visit her grave is painful memories which hurt me more as the days go on. Every passing moment made it clearer that she would never be returning home; a thought which sometimes, made my body freeze to the very core. I would go to sleep hoping and praying that when I woke up the next morning, she was there next to me; fast asleep, sleeping like an angel. But no, I was surrounded by silence, by desolation, by thoughts. Those once beautiful memories now lost in despair. My situation was irreparable.
My soul-mate was ripped from me like the force of Satan. My defective heart, my love’s horrific laceration being the image I cannot ever dispel; the gushing of her blood flowed free like a fast river; that awful stench hindered my ability to breathe. The smell, which consumed my energy, had drained the strength I had within me making me weaker than ever before. My nose had shrivelled up and the tears ran free from my eyes as I poured my heart out onto the Glasgow concrete.
But then I was left with nothing, except a photo album and a face which defines ugliness; for what? A handful of free jewellery in sacrifice for my girl’s life; what sort of fair deal is that? They blatant, irrational, incoherent and immature youths permanently disfigured me while they walked free from the carnage they had produced. They sadistic people we as a society called teenagers, left me at the scene screaming into my fiancées beautiful eyes begging her to stay with me. I swear, I had never prayed to God more times than I did then.
It had been a Monday morning when I had walked along Buchanan Street to the local floral shop to pick up flowers to place on Rebecca’s grave; a routine which I had made an essential part of my day. This was a way of coping with the grief and dealing with the pain, as it did not matter whether it was rain or shine, visiting her final resting place always seemed to enlighten my day, as if she was standing right next to me. Happy days the past had been. Happy days!
It was on this particular day, the 18th of April that I had seen something so sickening; my heart could have clinched into a fist. A thriving feeling of enduring hatred towards this figure, who I can vividly remember seeing in the past, had all of a sudden brought to earth, the memories which I had desperately tried to forget. The anger, the guilt, the paranoia, the worry which I had gradually managed to release, had all but resurfaced as he walked down the street; increasing my want to exact revenge; the need to punish him as much as he punished my girl. I was at this point, afraid of myself. Not afraid of being arrested for assault of murder, but for what I would...