One cold, lonely night, I woke up in a pool of sweat mixed with blood.
I tried to sit up and noticed the knife was still in my body. I had to be in shock. Trying to glimpse the stabber fleeing my home, I noticed parts of his body. In the faint lighting, I could make out some of his facial features.
Pulling the knife out of my stomach, I saw something more alarming. The knife had entered my left breast, was forced long the nipple and straight down through my stomach! The wounds didn’t stop there, I realized.
Upon phoning 911, I saw my wrist had been sliced open. Maybe this guy wanted the authorities to think it was suicide. However, this would still have to be investigated and brought to trial.
All the doctors said I was lucky to be alive. I certainly didn’t feel lucky. Why was this guy trying to kill me? What did I ever do to him?
I was in the hospital for about four months. In that time, my heart failed me twice. Luck must have still been on my side. The doctors were able to save me on both accounts. They couldn’t, however, save my breast. So now I am left to live my life with only one breast and looking extremely lopsided.
That wasn’t the worst I had to deal with, I suppose. I still had to view the police lineup.
After a good ten minutes of examining the seven suspects, I positively identified my attacker. Scary thing was, I still didn’t know who he was or why he did this to me. He looked only vaguely familiar…
Of course, pressing charges was in the plan for this guy. I took this all the way to court. After a grueling six month wait, we finally had our day in court. “Our Day” just so happened to last a horrid five months.
The day was April 21st and it was painfully long. I learned almost nothing that first day. His name was Jeffrey Smith. I knew him a long time ago. In fact, I once thought I was in love with him. These days he looks so different, so changed, so mean. Still, why would he try to kill me?
On June 26th, at 4:18 PM, my heart caused me to be rushed to the nearest emergency room.
That near-fatal incident took the doctors longer to revive me. I was technically dead for 10 minutes and 35 seconds. After that, my brain was fried! I doubted if I wanted to go on living. For a week, doctors wouldn’t allow me to tend to courtroom business.
On July 3rd, at approximately 9:25 AM, I was once again in court. I couldn’t understand why these procedures were taking so long. He tried to kill me! Just convict him and let’s be done with it all!
At this point, I didn’t care why he did what he did. However, on August 14th, Jeffrey took the witness stand and totally went off about everything. He told about how he loved and missed me, about how horrible he felt, living without me. He was talking all types of crazy stuff. This nut even had the nerve to say he wanted me to take him back. Of all things, he wanted me to forgive him.
All I could do was cry. My memories of what we’d had were dragged through the court. As he looked into my eyes and whispered my name like he used to, tears ran down both our faces.
I could see he was hurting, but that didn’t justify attempted murder. That’s certainly not something I pushed him into trying on me.
September 11th, on the witness stand, I collapsed. At 3:45 PM, I was once again rushed to the hospital. Somehow, I had internal bleeding, without cause or warning. I had to wait another week to return to court.
Wednesday, September 17th, I returned at 11:45 AM, only to have the day cut short. Court let out at 1:30 PM, to resume the next morning.
The trial seemed to go on forever! But finally, finally the day arrived. The day to sentence Jeffrey for what he had done to me
*
On Friday, September 26th, at 3:38 PM, Jeffrey Smith was sentenced to life without parole…
And at 7:55 PM, on that very same day, my 25th birthday…
I DIED.
*
This reprint of Guilty by Mandi Rose, was originally published on Yellow Mama, be sure to drop by and check them out. Cindy Rosmus is a cool kind of gal.
Another Jersey girl, Mandi Rose is a single mother mom who does good things for lots of people, and has a soft spot for kids. Her work has appeared in Yellow Mama and around Twisted Sister. Mandi lives to write and have her voice heard.
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