Hello my minions, guten tag and any other greeting that come to mind! Finally, deciding to start this… Another story! But it will not be humorous. Time to sharpen my angst and suspense abilities with my first completely dark, and melancholy story. Love is To Die For. Given Broken Strings has it's darker moments, but this will be the whole shebang. Hopefully. Enough with my droning and stupid monologue type thing, and onto hopefully another favourite.
What is love?
Most would say it was a wonderful, magical emotion that made one who was lucky enough to feel it, feel as if they were walking on clouds.
Whoever said that, is on the verge of mental retardation.
Love is a useless, pointless, emotion and a fucking waste. Nothing more, nothing less.
But if it was so pointless, how could I have let myself fall into it over and over and over again?
Because I'm a stupid, hypocritical, bitch. A downright imbecilic, pathetic, duplicitous bitch.
She was right. I knew she was too, from the very moment the words formulated that fucking sentence. That one fucking sentence which haunted my mind, body, and soul then, and to this very moment in time.
Damn her to hell, she was right. But I would let hell freeze over, melt, then fucking freeze over again before I'd admit defeat to her virulent words!
Many have scrutinized me for my choices in life; my parents, my friends- or at least my former friends, and them to name a few.
Who the hell did they think they are? They claimed to have wanted to help me, but I was too smart to listen to their lies. I was a C.I.T., after all.
But now, I realize that I should've listened. This entire disarray could have been avoided, I wouldn't be here right now, and he would still be a-alive if I had only listened instead of sticking up my nose to their advice.
He'd be alive… It wouldn't have happened, all those countless nights wouldn't have happened, the whole fight wouldn't have happened, we wouldn't have happened.
But alas, he's gone, and never coming back. And it's my fault. No if's, and's, or but's about it. I can deny all I want, but at the end of the day, it doesn't change my situation.
Do I regret what we had? Do I regret what I did? Do I regret choosing him over the other? Sometimes. But regretting my actions will get me nowhere in life.
"Miss Courtney Winters, how do you plead?" asked the judge who sat before me.
I glanced around the courtroom, my expression dull and lifeless. I looked to the jury; every single one of them was glaring at me, with hard, malicious eyes. Even my former friends were glaring at me, meaning any effort was futile.
I kept my expression blank, despite the tears swelling up in my eyes, and turned to the w-witness. He was staring at me with saddened eyes, and pursed lips. We stared at each other for seconds, minutes, hours, I don't care. It'll probably be the last time I'll be able to stare into his gorgeous green eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but he sniffled and turned away from me, obviously too disgusted with me to say what he was going to say; can you blame him?
I'm a loser, scum, worthless. No better than my fucking mother.
"Guilty." I mumbled.
"I hereby sentence Courtney Winters to fifteen-twenty years of imprisonment for the second degree murder of Duncan Evans." Judge Mathews decreed, as I bowed my head down in not shame, but to avoid the eyes of the jury, and the eyes of him. I kept my eyes narrowed at my designer heels, as the courtroom erupted into hushed voices and whisperings about me. Whatever.
Before I knew it, an officer had cuffed me, and roughly grabbed my left arm. I winced as he had grabbed where one of my numerous bruises were, but I refused to cry out in pain. I bit my bottom lip almost to the point of drawing blood, and kept my narrowed eyes downcast as I was shoved out the courtroom, with my dumb lawyer Michael trailing behind us, jaw agape, I'm sure.
I bet he was thinking that I'd defend my case, and I could have too. I could have won that fucking case and been out of that damned place. But what's the point?
As soon as we exited the building, we were swarmed with news reporters, even a few I recognized like Josh and that harpy Blaineley O'Halloran.
"Courtney Winters, how could you murder your own boyfriend?"
"How does it feel to be going to jail, the one thing you despised about him most!"
"What happened! Didn't you love him?"
I ignored their stupid questions, and the stupid stinging feeling I felt in my chest.
I kept my mouth shut, my eyes down, and let myself get shoved down the path and towards the police cruiser. The officer opened the door, and shoved me in, while I glared at him with venomous eyes.
Whatever. I rested my head against the barred window, and closed my eyes and let a few tears escape them.
I knew I wouldn't leave prison alive; and frankly, that's okay with me. I guess it's the price to pay for what I did.
My name is Courtney Winters, and I murdered Duncan Evans.
Because I loved him too much.
Whoa, pretty heavy stuff, huh? Now that was just the prologue, and depending on how many reviews I get, I'll work on this more. Please review, favourite, and alert! Thank you for reading! I'll try and update regularly!