Waste of time

Her body lifeless on the cold hard steel table; was naked under the harsh glaring light, but for a thin white cloth draped over the corpse of Jane Doe, victim case no. 22645 drive by hit and run. The toxicology test reported high levels of alcohol in her system at the time of the accident. The theory was that the victim was unaware of the speeding car until it was too late. In the minds of most of the police investigators in charge of solving the case, this was nothing more than more paperwork on their already loaded desks. “To tell you the truth, she had it coming. One could say that she was killing her-self any way with all the alcohol abuse. And now we are stick to clean up the mess.” A waste of time, just a simple waste of time.

Three people stepped in front of the observation window now. One a police officer and two others. A man early Forty’s and a woman late Thirty’s. their names were Luke Manson and Beth Manson. Happily married with three children Megan, Johnny and Craig. The police chief had arrived at their house earlier that morning with unfortunate news. News that has lead them to be standing here at the observation window, to identify the body of a girl who was once their daughter….
Yes she was once their daughter, once a long time ago. She was clever, confident and happy. But life, truly strikes hard at those who have it good. She lost that confidence, had no inkling to put her all into her work and slowly her cleverness subsided. And she became depressed. Her happiness bled out of her like a gaping wound, and poison seemed to replace the joy with hate, anger and pain. She lost sight of the joys of her life, and so clouded by the pain she lost her way. She felt trapped, like everyone was against her, like the world was laughing at her. She was driven into a corner by her own fears and gave in to the idea that she was insignificant, that her life was meaningless and that she was simply a waste of time.

The devil was toying with her soul, tempting her to pursue desires that were sins in the eyes of the Lord. He gave her lust, and she took it hungrily. He fed her notions of greed and she desired for the things she wanted and the things she couldn’t have. He gave her jealousy and she began to spite her brothers, for the love and attention they received seeking any moment to argue and reap them of a slight piece of happiness. But you see, what the devil gives in abundance is more sadness and pain. She found that she began to enjoy the moments of torment inflicted on her siblings. But she hated the consequences of her choices. She began to argue with her parents who fed her anger, at the same time added more to the well of guilt and pain accumulating with in her heart. And at times the pain would overwhelm her leaving her face tear streaked and with no will to go on.
It was her anger that drove her to extremes that night. Her anger at the world, at the devil for using her, at God for abandoning her, at her parents for their rebukes. But mostly it was the anger and hatred she felt towards herself that pushed her over the edge. In her father’s wine cabinet was an old bottle of whisky, she stumbled out of the house, seeking relief in all the wrong places. She paid for a bottle of Smirnoff vodka and cigarettes at the corner shop with a kiss.

Never before had she smoked or drank, to be honest she hated the stuff, but she did it now, out of spite. Eagar to break all the rules that had been laid down for her by her parents when she was still a good girl, their good girl.
The car hit her before , through her alcohol clouded brain could register what had happened. It wasn’t quick and painless, she suffered, it was agonising pain, the like of which she had never experienced before in her life. The last thing she thought before the shroud of death closed over her was “I’m sorry”
“We found her six blocks from your residence. She had identification in her purse.” The investigator said in a hushed tone. He rifled through some notes in the file he was holding and produced a wrinkled piece of paper in an evidence zip-locked bag. He cleared his throat, before handing the letter to Mr Manson.
“This was also found in the bag, we thought you should see it.”

It was a letter, written by Megan, moments before her death.
Mom, dad
I am sorry for everything.
I love you.
Megan x

Case no. 22645 Megan Manson, DoB: 25/05/1994 DoD: 22/05/2012
CoD: Drive by hit and run.
Killer: Never found.