#DeathOnTheNile

Diary entry

Dear diary, 

Have you ever loved so much, you would kill? 

You read about murderers in the newspaper or hear about them on the radio. How they explain they had no choice, or love drove them to do it, and you end up asking yourself;  could I ever possibly do the same? If someone asked that me that very question a few months ago, HELL, even 24 hours ago, the thought of killing someone would turn my stomach and the immediate answer would be NO! But now. Now everything's different. 

I came aboard the steamer a girl aged nineteen with her whole life before her. Travelling with my father up the Nile, accompaning him on his journey while he works. The plan was to enjoy being away from the foggy life in London, and see sights and wonders that people dream of. Now? Now I will leave as a woman with a terrible secret. The sights I dreamed of seeing; faded in my memories with blood. I will forever fall asleep to the shot repeating over and over again, a vicious circle in my head. 

Never would I have thought I would risk it all for one person. Okay, if my family were in danger then sure I would do something, but never for someone who I bearly know. Knew. But then again, I did know you. I had fallen completely for you. Like the way it is described in books. As if your falling to your death and you put your hands out to grasp something, anything, but all you get is air. It's terrifying, but also exciting. But, was that what love felt like? Or was that the danger of being caught? Both? 

Oh I'm such a mess. 

I feel like everyone's eyes are on me, but I've already grown accustom to that. Ever since we started this, whatever this is, I had that very feeling. The feeling everyone was watching how we interacted with each other, or noticed how we looked at each other from across the room. The constant nagging of questions. "Do they know?" "Does my father see a change in me?" "Does she know what he is doing behind her back?" "Is it worth all the lies?" But now, the questions have altered. "Do they know?" "Can they see I've changed?" "Do they suspect me?" "Will I make it off this steamer a free woman or a convict?" It all crowds my brain and I just want to let it out, tell someone. But I can't. So instead I turn to my diary and let my emotions out. It helps me answer the questions. 

But the biggest question that remains unanswered and hangs above my head the most will forever haunt me. 

Which one of us pulled the trigger?