The Music Box

4. The Sleep (Depression)

I cried myself to sleep and woke up, by her pulling my hair back. I kept crying, mumbling "he's dead. He's gone. He's dead..you killed him...he's gone... Dead....he...." I bawled until she covered my mouth.

"I killed him because he's a crook. He's no good for you anyway. He was a bad man." I shook my head

"He was the nicest guy I've ever met. He's no crook. That box was a gift. Not evidence..." I continued to bawl until she sedated me again.

She through me on the floor with a knife to my throat, "HE WAS A BAD MAN, DON'T MAKE ME SLIT YOUR THROAT!" A tear ran down. "Do me a favor." Her anger faded and she stood up, brushing herself off. Embarrassed, she left the room. I continued to cry, as pictures of him rushed through my memory. His voice was around my ears. His smell surrounded me. His touch was inches away. I cried and cried... He's dead.

Do me a favor....