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Dear Diary,

I don’t think I’ve ever been so frightened in my life. First of all the sight of Mr Penny’s body lying on the library floor was horrifying, all that blood spilled and flowing in different directions… but now they’re saying that I did it! Just because I was the last person to see him alive doesn’t make me guilty. I’m starting to feel like there is an invisible hand closing around my throat, constricting, squeezing the breath out of me. How can I get out of this? Why doesn’t anybody believe me? I can’t go to prison; I’d never survive it. It’s like a horrific scenario from one of the detective novels I enjoy so much, only this time I’m the protagonist. I’m going to have a panic attack, I can feel it. What can I do? I’ll lose my job, I’ll never have a normal life again. Oh, God, please help me!

It was horrendous. They’ve just found the body and I’ve been called to the scene where it happened. I can’t remember exactly how it happened, I just remember our argument, and a lot of anger. He kept talking to me in that miserable and arrogant way, and he literally drove me insane.

All of a sudden, I remember the hammer in my hands, and the blood. He kept moving and I just remember hitting him again and again. Then I remember the knife and the sensation of stabbing it into his chest, and oh my God, all the blood splattering around.

The people around looked so shocked when they saw his dead body lying over there. I just wonder why they are so surprised. Nobody seemed to notice that he truly deserved it. I am not a violent person, but he kind of forced me to go there, and I’m sure he was somehow enjoying it.

To be honest, I don’t really care if the police discovers the truth. I can’t describe the feeling, I certainly feel relieved and I’m glad it’s over.

Bloody afternoon in Madrid

This afternoon, when I was comming back to school, just after having my cup of tea, when I join in my classroom, there was somebody lying on the floor…dead!

As soon I enter in the room, the police jumped from behind the door and accused me: they were believing that I killed that man! Incredible! Me and killing somebody!!!

The most I was trying to diffend myself, the most they didn’t believe me: all the evidences were against me! There was a knife and the floor…with my fingerprints on it; there was also a gun with the same blood DNA than under my shoes; there was a roap, a broken candle holder and a car key.

No way to escape: it was me!

But I wasn’t there at that time, I was drinking my coffee… sorry, my tea!

I din’t know what to do any more to diffend myself…

But luckyly, days later, the police find out the real murder: it was Mrs. Rose, and not me. Because, to be honest, just to kill the rainy afternoon…we all were playing Cluedo!

The Jefatura

I just couldn´t take any more of the bureaucracy at the Jefatura, I snapped. I have never done anything like this before and I feel really guilty but they just wouldn´t accept the papers and kept asking for more and more. After three hours being passed around the building and then being told I would have to come back I lost the plot and took the candlestick I´d bought for my friend´s wedding out of my bag and hit the bureaucrat on the back of his head as he turned around to go off for his coffee break. Most of the other stations were already empty so no one saw what I had done, as he fell to the floor I picked up the candlestick, wiped it off and put it back in my bag and walked out of the building. I went outside and got on the next bus that came along, when I had gone several stops from the Jefatura I got off the bus and dropped the candlestick in a recycling bin. The council lorry was coming down the road so I felt confident that the evidence would soon be destroyed. When I eventually got home I turned on the news but nothing was being reported yet. I knew they were on Summer time so I wondered if he would lie there until the cleaners arrived the following morning.

Did I feel guilty or did I feel it was revenge for many years of being told I had the wrong certificate and that I needed triplicate copies?


I can´t believe it…… me of all people …her best friend…how dare they ! God I am so angry . Ok , I was the last to see her alive but then I probaly have been the last person to see many people alive , if you count those people who I pass ever day on the way to the office!

Well it was 5´O clock when I made that ascent up the stairs to ask Anna if she wanted to catch the late showing of Dail M for Murder as part of the Hitchcock season at the  Picture House.

Poor thing ! I knew something was up when I entered the room and the radio  was not on ! She always listened to Radiop 6 Live when she was painting  and I knew the deadline was tomorrow so the radio would have been blaring out . She used to say ,  the music used to help her finish with a flurry . The blood was everwhere it  felt like entering the  Kapoor exchibition that we had seen together last year at the R.A .