I take off my watch and put it in the drawer. I've stopped the time on it so there's no point wearing it. Stopped it at the time I became one of them.
One of the Guilty.
It started when Cute Receptionist winked at me as she handed me my door key. It's her fault. She shouldn't of led me to believe that I was someone she wanted to get involved with. She joined me for meals, she even came up to my room a couple of times. I was only planning on staying for a couple of days, but she persuaded me to stay. Days became a week, then two, then three. We got to know each other on a personal level I wouldn't expect you to understand. All that's left of her now is the typical, symbolic lipstick mark on my shirt. Oh, and the body.
Body? Yes, body. I can see you working it all out in your head. He's killed her. But I'm not a he, I'm a she. It makes a lot of difference. The police won't suspect me, I'm just a guest in a hotel. Nothing special. I came here to get away, just for a few days. I wasn't running away, I was having a break. A rest. Things at home were getting hectic. Kids, job, family. I had to go somewhere new, somewhere quiet. That's how I ended up here, in the William Jones Hotel, with a dead receptionist in my double bed. The sheets are clean, I didn't stab her. It wasn't messy. It was after she told me that what we had wasn't exclusive. I slid my arms around her neck and told her that it was fine.
Then I strangled her.
I have to say, there wasn't much fight in her. Just a last, withering look before she dropped dead onto my chest. I've tucked her up in the bed, it looks like she's sleeping. I stroke her hair and smile. No one will ever know. Never know that I'm Guilty.
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