Who pushed me down the stairs?

My mother was adamant that Mac was the one who killed me and had run away with my money. It was all because someone had said that he had all my money.

So, the police had to send someone to arrest Mac.

Actually, this whole thing was quite amusing.

The next time I saw Mac again was in the courtroom. He was much thinner than he was before. The man was sitting in the defendant's chair with vacant eyes.

Next to him sat his newly wedded wife. The woman was wearing a floral dress. Her eyes were swollen with tears.

“You lied to me! Why? Tell me who that woman was!” She beat his chest with her fists and cried loudly but Mac just sat there without any reaction, like a deflated balloon.

“You said you’ve never been in love before. Why did you lie to me? We just got married."

I suddenly noticed a dazzling diamond ring on her finger. The sight made my heart clenched. It turned out, he bought the ring for her.

I had seen that ring a long time ago. I found it in Mac's pocket and I had been so naïve to think he bought the ring for me.

So, I had been waiting patiently for his proposal. However, all I got from him was "We're not right to each other."

It was truly too hilarious.

"I'm just playing around. I was too lonely. I have never thought she would die and I swear to you, I did not do it."

"You are the one I truly love. I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He took his wife's hand and said those words with such determination.

His words were like a blow to my heart, making me gasped for air because of the heartbreak.

I drifted away and returned to the rented room.

The man was still there. He was staring quietly through the hole in the wall with a cigarette in his hand. The floor on his feet was covered with cigarette ash.

I found a place to sit next to him and stared at him and he seemed to stare at me too.

The T-shirt that he wore had long turned yellow. He turned his gaze back to the hole in the wall and took a long drag of the cigarette. I could see that the blood stain on his fingers was still there.

I asked him that night, "Do you want it?"

Cockroaches crawled up the pipes and mold flaked off the walls.

He looked at me through his teary eyes. His breath labored. "Amy, we've met before," he said, then licked his cracked lips.

I lifted my skirt and sat on his lap. "You know, I won't charge you."

The damp weather in Gavaresh was unbearable, the air reeked of moss.

“That’s not what I meant.”

He hesitated for a while, then raised his hand to touch my face. "He hit you."

I stopped moving my hands.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

The police had said I had three broken ribs and there were signs of abuse on my body.

“It’s him! He’s the one who killed my daughter!” my mother screamed in court.

“Your Honor, you must make him pay!”