Guilty mind

Short story about guilt

To be honest. I don’t know why I’m here. They tell me it’s because I’m guilty, I don’t think so. How could they know who I am if I don’t know who I am myself. I use to know. I always knew. I told myself who I was, simple as that. The voice was always there, reminding me. That voice is silent now. He left, I don’t know where, but I know he left. His whispers have ceased.  He couldn’t just vanish, he had to go somewhere. I wish I knew where that somewhere was. I wish he would come back. What was that? Footsteps. Heavy boots. Death follows behind them. They’re coming, they’ve made their decision. I didn’t even get a say. They think they know me, they don’t. I did it, I didn’t mean to though. Rage is blinding, but so is passion. I loved her, I still do. Maybe she still loves me. Sometimes I can still hear her sweet voice. It’s faint, but it’s still there. The problem is I don’t enjoy it as I used to. Now, it’s haunting. They tell me it's guilt, that I should be ashamed. I don’t think I have guilt, but what would I know? Chaos sleeps beside me now. They’ve taken everything from me because I took something that didn’t belong to me. I know I must be punished. Then why do I think I deserve a second chance?  They’re closer. Can’t they see? I will never mean harm again. Blood is on my hands but it hasn’t soaked. I’m a good man. I know I am. If only the voice would tell me that. Why did it leave? I can see them, they’re grim faces. They know the deed they must commit too. A foolish man must pay the price. I wish they knew how I felt. Why did I do it?  I regret it all. I deserve this. They’re here. It’s time to go. They motion at me. All is lost. Wait, I can hear it. He’s back, saying something. I can hear him, his whispers return, clearer than any other times before. “I’m sorry”.