text: The room was silent but for the occasional shuffle of uneasy feet and the impatient coughs of the prosecutor. She continued to stare intently at her hands almost pleading with them to stop shaking. But what good had pleading ever done? She could hear the distant echo of footsteps outside the courtroom, light, carefree and she longed, more than anything, to be one of those people, to have any other life but hers. She willed her heart to steady in an attempt to regain composure and slowly raised her head, forcing herself to look into the eyes of the prosecutor. “I’m going to ask you again Mrs. Edom, and must remind you, that you are under oath. Did you kill your husband?” She stared into his cold, merciless eyes and drew a deep calming breath. “Yes”. The darkness seemed to chase her as she ran down the system of alleyways, spurred on by sheer panic until it engulfed her completely. She had reached the bridge. The road was deserted. She felt her hand close around the hilt of the knife in the deep pocket of her coat and she withdrew it slowly. It glowed scarlet in the moonlight, stained with anger and resentment. She let it fall. The water cried out as the knife sliced through its surface and she watched as the ripples emanated from the wound until the surface calmed, burying her secret. She retreated back into the alley, back into the comfort of darkness. She collapsed beside a large puddle, the filthy evidence of weekend rain, and once again told herself it was self defence. This time she did not even convince herself. She wanted to remain a part of the darkness forever, hidden from the world but day was inevitable. Light would expose her sin. The court was a sea of murmurs, whispers of excitement, scandal. She remained still, out of place amidst the flurry of people watching the woman’s world collapse. Her gaze had returned to her lap where her upturned hands collected her tears in a little pool. She knew that her tears were deceiving. They were tears of relief. The release of a burden of silence. They were neither from shame nor grief as she knew they ought to be, there was no sense of regret. She felt no remorse. She was free. She had married him when she was very young, barely twenty. He was handsome, charming, with his hair falling over his eyes, a veil that concealed his many flaws. She had enjoyed the attention, the sense of companionship she had never known as a child, abandoned by her father when her mother passed away. She knew now that it was not love. It had never been love. She was not his wife. She was his trophy, his young beautiful prize. She had no life, no company outside his home, no purpose but to submit to his demands. The disgust and the repulsion she suffered in silence were better than the bruises defiance brought. She resented his touch, the sound of his drunken laughter at the television, but she kept her feelings hidden. The only evidence of her miserable existence, were the tears that drenched her pillows each night. The policeman eyed the woman with pity through his rear-view mirror. She looked so weathered, fragile. She stared out of the window at the schoolyard, at the children playing and chattering excitedly and she felt a pang of sorrow as her heart twisted with longing. She had always wanted a child, a family of her own. Her eyes welled with tears as once again her mind returned to the doctor’s office where his futile explanations and empty condolences were muffled by her anguished sobs. “I’m sorry. It happens sometimes. Any trauma sustained to the stomach can cause these miscarriages. I am very sorry” She stood in the kitchen over the sink and washed the remaining tears from her face. Her body was exhausted from emotion and she felt empty, hollow. She heard him swear as he tripped over the doorstep and her heart began to race. This time it was different, it was not from fear or dread, but fury, disgust. He swayed unsteadily into the room and looked at her with those cold, dark eyes. He grabbed her by the arm as usual to force from her the affection he craved and she plunged the knife, with the force of hatred, into his chest. She stared into his eyes which had widened in shock. There was no longer any power, authority but fear and fragility, humanity. He slumped to the floor in a pool of blood and shaking, she withdrew the knife. She would no longer be silenced. He had denied her a life, now she would deny him his. Her footsteps echoed around the corridor as the warden led her to her cell. She was tired and found herself hoping that the bed would not be too hard. She could not describe the way she felt as the door to the cell was slammed shut. Although she was confined, imprisoned, she felt a sense of freedom that she had never felt at home. She knew that she would be out one day, and then she would be free. She would have a new life, one that she would control. She allowed herself a slight smile as she lay down on the bed and began to hum quietly to herself until her voice overcame the silence.