Memoir Of A Murderer Review の小説・ストーリー

The memory hit without warning: me, standing in the middle of the dining hall last night, eyes red-rimmed, saying to him, "Domenico, I didn't hurt her. Please, just believe me this once." But he hadn't believed me. He'd chosen to lock me away instead. His breathing came apart. It felt like his chest had been split open with bare hands. And then Domenico Ferrante, the Don of the most powerful family in the city, dropped to his knees. He reached out with trembling fingers, trying to touch the body. Yet the moment his fingertips grazed the blackened skin, he recoiled as though he'd been burned, like he simply could not accept it.

“Murder is born of love, and love attains the greatest intensity in murder.” ~ OCTAVE MIRBEAU ~BACK IN LA~ MELODY POV My footfalls created a rhythmic clanking sound against the shining white tiles as I sashayed down the hallways. My resentment was bitter, oily slime that clung onto my tongue with every step I took, lingering in my mind and leaving utterly nasty thoughts of wreaking havoc and leaving hot red blood on my trail.

The first man tried to crawl away, his nose already bent sideways but she grabbed him by the hair and slammed his skull into the dumpster with a hollow clang. Once. Twice. Again. Until he went slack in her grip. I couldn’t breathe. Blood smeared her hands, splattered her face. She looked alive in a way that chilled me. Like this — this carnage — was her real element. She straightened slowly, chest rising and falling, eyes blazing under the streetlight. For a second, she just looked like something straight out of a horror movie. And that’s when the dam broke inside me. “You’re…a murderer.” My voice cracked, louder than I meant. I crawled back on the dirty pavement, my palms scraping against t

he murmured, almost tenderly. He leaned in. The gun gleamed in his grip, still warm from the kill. “I kill men for blinking at me wrong,” he said, “And you think I’m going to let you go?” “I swear…please…I’m not gonna tell anyone…I didn’t even see his face…I don’t even know the person you killed…I have short term memory….i swear to God sometimes I forget my own name….I didn’t know what I was looking at…just please…” She tried to crawl backward. Slipping in her own piss. Her palms scraping through gravel. Her knees dragging through mud and blood, slick and cold.

He said and gave me his calling card. “Okay,” I said and watched him leave before I closed my door. I locked my door, looked at Michael and asked, “What happened?” She smile at me and said “Because you won” “Remember if you won the victim will come back from death and he will be remembered as if nothing happened to him and the murderer will vanish like he never exists” She remind me because I forgot. “And if I lose?” “The victim will be gone like he never existed and the murderer will be stronger and evil than before” She answered and I drink the bottle of water that I am holding because I am thirsty. I am just done eating the macaroni soup with bread that Tania gave me.

Liam walked in silence all the way to Chloe's car and stood at the door averting his eyes. "Well?" She said after five minutes of silence and eye aversion. "Uh…The case is closed…Well, I still have a lot of paperwork to file, but…It was found to be homicidal murder with the deceased Veronica Moulton as the perpetrator, and her death was deemed a suicide." "Oh." She looked at him with no expression. She was relieved to be finished with all of this nonsense and had decided when she was working on the crossword puzzle to forget about Liam and work on piecing her shattered life back together.

That would be just my luck. I stared back, thinking. Have I really killed someone? Oh yes I have. I remember : two of the men down the alley. I really didn't know how I got there and where those power came from. I'm a murderer. I can never live that down. It's a memory that will taunt me forever. I stared back at him.

he leaned forward, “Theft, vanda-” “I don’t need you to tell me what I -” “Finally,” Shapiro leaned forward, “A confession.” I scoffed, “I’m not an idiot.” I ignored them as I began to skim through the file. “Stop wasting our time James,” Ridley pulled away the file from me. “Then do you fucking jobs and get Nick Matthews. He is the murderer here not me.” They laughed again and I stared at them annoyed. Their thick heads were not convinced that a billionaire could be capable of such a crime.

“Who is the murderer now?” “Who is the murderer now?” I heard the voice again that irritated my head for a moment and I suddenly remembered what happened last night. The murder that I witnessed. The killer is exactly the same as me. The scene played in my head like a movie. How the other “me” killed a man inside his own house under the full moon on a silent and cold night. I shook my head because I knew it wasn’t real but my heart beat fast and I got nervous when I saw mud on the floor; The mud or should I say footsteps only going to my bed. I immediately check the footsteps because it is weird that it has footsteps going in but not going out.

I got her. “So I really did.” Now she can’t say anything anymore. Her face looked like she said something she should not. She slipped all of the sudden and spill them to me. It’s not everything but it’s enough for me to verify that I really did something terrible. Therefore, I’ve been a murderer. “You just have a part of the memory. You can’t conclude everything by just looking at the single part of it,” she suddenly said when I’m starting to burst into tears.