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Authors: Betsy Reavley
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was happening so quickly.
January 7 th 1984
She was pretty, that was for sure. I’d seen her about. Flirting with all the men, like she didn’t have a care in the world. It made me sick. She would be my second. I knew that the minute I laid eyes on her. This time I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I had a plan. She was going to be punished. I would see to that.
The afternoon I’d spotted her I’d followed her home. She worked in the centre but lived off Barton Road to the southwest of the city, in a little place on Hardwick Street. She wasn’t very old, probably in her early twenties, and lived in what appeared to be a shared house.
On that day I finished work and walked straight through the town. It was dark so early and that gave me an advantage. I knew the way she went home on her bike. She cycled through the town and cut across Lammas Land, that large grassy area where homosexuals meet in the bushes at night to do their filthy acts.
That evening I found myself lingering behind a large shrub waiting for my opportunity. I didn’t have to wait long before I saw her tootling along the path on her bike. I stepped out from the bushes and waited for her to get closer. I began to walk so that we were both heading in the same direction. In my right hand I gripped a thick stick I’d found beneath a bush. The path was nice and narrow and so the moment I heard her approaching me from behind I readied myself. From my peripheral vision I caught a glimpse of her passing and just at the right moment I swung the stick with all my might sending it crashing into her skull. She went flying off her bike and ended up in a heap on the ground a few feet away.
It was dark but it was still early evening so I had to act quickly. She groaned on the grass, trying to sit up. I sat on top of her and punched her repeatedly until she wasn’t moving. Despite the fact is was freezing cold she’d chosen to wear a short denim skirt. Slut. Quickly I pulled if off of her and wrapped it tightly around her neck and twisted the fabric. Eventually I heard a pop in her spine and she was gone.
I removed the penknife I’d brought with me from my trouser pocket and set to work on her eyes. I had to work fast. There was no time to prolong things with her. After her eyes were removed, I dragged her half-naked body to the edge of the river and pushed her in.
Then I calmly returned to her buckled bike and wheeled it into the bushes. It was like she was never there. I straightened my clothes and casually made my way home.
January 9 th 1984
We were married in August 1983. It was a low-key affair. From my side Dad, Dawn, Aunt Mary, her husband and kids came. When I told Trisha, at work, she was so excited I ended up inviting her. Her brown eyes shone with excitement and her bosom jiggled up and down as she hopped on the spot with delight. She appointed herself my maid of honour and insisted on coming dress shopping with me.
Dad’s reaction took me by surprise. He was normally so damning but in that instance he said it was time I grew up and moved out. I realised he was pleased that I was no longer his responsibility. It freed up more money for beer.
Dawn has been shocked. The look of her face was priceless. When it sank in she, too, was pleased. It meant she would have our bedroom all to herself.
Larry’s parents and brother were at the ceremony along with his boss from work and an old school friend who I’d never met before.
I wore a beige crêpe crochet lace maxi dress Trisha picked out at the charity shop. To begin with she was horrified I wasn’t going to buy a new dress. But I explained we needed to save money to afford a home. I told her I didn’t want to wear white. Larry said it was wrong since I wasn’t a virgin. I didn’t tell her that.
Trisha insisted we went into a florist to order a bouquet. I told her that it seemed like a waste of money but she said I’d already cut too many corners.
‘You only get
January 7 th 1984
She was pretty, that was for sure. I’d seen her about. Flirting with all the men, like she didn’t have a care in the world. It made me sick. She would be my second. I knew that the minute I laid eyes on her. This time I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I had a plan. She was going to be punished. I would see to that.
The afternoon I’d spotted her I’d followed her home. She worked in the centre but lived off Barton Road to the southwest of the city, in a little place on Hardwick Street. She wasn’t very old, probably in her early twenties, and lived in what appeared to be a shared house.
On that day I finished work and walked straight through the town. It was dark so early and that gave me an advantage. I knew the way she went home on her bike. She cycled through the town and cut across Lammas Land, that large grassy area where homosexuals meet in the bushes at night to do their filthy acts.
That evening I found myself lingering behind a large shrub waiting for my opportunity. I didn’t have to wait long before I saw her tootling along the path on her bike. I stepped out from the bushes and waited for her to get closer. I began to walk so that we were both heading in the same direction. In my right hand I gripped a thick stick I’d found beneath a bush. The path was nice and narrow and so the moment I heard her approaching me from behind I readied myself. From my peripheral vision I caught a glimpse of her passing and just at the right moment I swung the stick with all my might sending it crashing into her skull. She went flying off her bike and ended up in a heap on the ground a few feet away.
It was dark but it was still early evening so I had to act quickly. She groaned on the grass, trying to sit up. I sat on top of her and punched her repeatedly until she wasn’t moving. Despite the fact is was freezing cold she’d chosen to wear a short denim skirt. Slut. Quickly I pulled if off of her and wrapped it tightly around her neck and twisted the fabric. Eventually I heard a pop in her spine and she was gone.
I removed the penknife I’d brought with me from my trouser pocket and set to work on her eyes. I had to work fast. There was no time to prolong things with her. After her eyes were removed, I dragged her half-naked body to the edge of the river and pushed her in.
Then I calmly returned to her buckled bike and wheeled it into the bushes. It was like she was never there. I straightened my clothes and casually made my way home.
January 9 th 1984
We were married in August 1983. It was a low-key affair. From my side Dad, Dawn, Aunt Mary, her husband and kids came. When I told Trisha, at work, she was so excited I ended up inviting her. Her brown eyes shone with excitement and her bosom jiggled up and down as she hopped on the spot with delight. She appointed herself my maid of honour and insisted on coming dress shopping with me.
Dad’s reaction took me by surprise. He was normally so damning but in that instance he said it was time I grew up and moved out. I realised he was pleased that I was no longer his responsibility. It freed up more money for beer.
Dawn has been shocked. The look of her face was priceless. When it sank in she, too, was pleased. It meant she would have our bedroom all to herself.
Larry’s parents and brother were at the ceremony along with his boss from work and an old school friend who I’d never met before.
I wore a beige crêpe crochet lace maxi dress Trisha picked out at the charity shop. To begin with she was horrified I wasn’t going to buy a new dress. But I explained we needed to save money to afford a home. I told her I didn’t want to wear white. Larry said it was wrong since I wasn’t a virgin. I didn’t tell her that.
Trisha insisted we went into a florist to order a bouquet. I told her that it seemed like a waste of money but she said I’d already cut too many corners.
‘You only get
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