A Mind Overcome By Vengeance

As I opened the door to leave, I turned around to glance one last time at his face. He looked peaceful: he could have been sleeping. The calm smile upon his lips made me shiver, almost out of shame. No, he had deserved this; it had been the right thing to do.    I had to leave, before I changed my mind.

***

            I had not always been this way. Hateful, I mean. When I was a child, my aunt informed me that my mother had not died in a car accident, but had been suffered a terrible faith, I did not quite understand. The atrocious truth I learned that day made me what I am today. I had always wondered why I did not live with my father if he was still alive. From that moment on, I never spoke nor thought about my father. He did not exist to me. He did not deserve my attention, for he was a horrible, discusting man. The idea that this man had to pay for his action only entered my mind on my eleventh birthday. Like a parasite, once the thought had entered my mind, it would not, could not leave it. That is when I started to fully understand the meaning of the word ‘hate’. As I grew older, I grew wiser, learning to manipulate, lie and trick people into doing whatever I wanted them to do. Love was not important, as it was a rumor, an overrated emotion that did not truly exist. The only true feelings I believed in were the ones I could really feel. Hate. Sadness. Vengeance. And Justice.

            It was only when I realized what had torn me apart that I started to really explore the dark and sinister side to my brain. I cannot say I had never thought about anything of the sort. All my life, teachers did not know what to do with me, did not know what was wrong or different about me. I suppose it was a good clue as to what I would do in my adult life.

            I went to work, owned a house and made money of my own just like every other man. It was inside that I differed. My brain was assembled in a distinct way, in a better way. I could be the greatest man alive, the strongest, because I did not let things such as love, trust and friendship get in my way. If I wanted something, I got it, no matter what stood in my way. If some people felt bad for my solitude, I pitied them, because they were weak. So weak and foolish.

            I was surprisingly swift. I had little specific preparation. However I had thought and re-thought the scene so many times in my mind, that it was clear how I would proceed. I did not care for such insignificant things as getting caught. Nothing scared me, because it was simply essential to eliminate this man, this piece of garbage, before I could move on to any of my other brilliant plans. Regular men were so easy to trick, to destroy.

            I had decided to kill him at nightfall, for a dramatic effect. I wanted the man who had abandoned me, had destroyed to suffer, to regret every moment of his ridiculous existence.

            I entered the house, with no care at all for the noise I was making. I locked the door, crossed the landing and the kitchen to finally see him reading, alone, in a dark room. I believe he heard me, for he turned to face me. I knew I had a terrifying grin spread across my face. He knew who I was, and I saw his expression change from fear to a mixture of terror and shameful regret. I did not move forward, and I knew he would not try to run away. He had done that enough. He seemed to want to say something, but was frightened to break the silence. So I spoke in my most chilling voice:

“You had to know it was coming, Tom. You had to be shivering in your sleep.”

“My son… you have to forgive me.”

“I am not your son. You cannot do anything that will change what you did.”

“Please, my son…”

His feeble attempt to justify his actions only made the cold hatred inside me burst into immense flames. How could he have an excuse for what he had done?  

“You knew all along, you knew that your actions would mark me. Make me different. I was fragile, and now, you pay for your actions, Tom. It is time for you to understand how weak you feel when you have nothing to hold on to, just like I did. I will never be like that again, I will never be weak.”

            He knew he could not protest. I had been right all along. I lifted the pistol directly in front of me, and I shot. And with cold satisfaction, I turned around.

Just then, a strange feeling took over my body. I felt as if the burning flames that had motivated me seconds ago had turned to stone and frozen my insides. No. It was impossible. I could not feel pity or sadness for this man. This horrible, hypocritical man did not deserve anyone to worry about him. How could I feel this kind of worry and shame about killing a man who had not cared, even for one second, about anyone else but himself? Even before his death, he had only pleaded for his life, not even worried about mine for one second. He had the coldest heart a man could have; he had killed his own wife for money.

As I opened the door to leave, I turned around to cast one last look at his face. He looked peaceful, he could have been sleeping. The calm smile upon his lips made me shiver, almost out of shame. No, this had been the first act for my great plan, and the only option. I had to leave, before I changed my mind.

Written by a corrupt, imaginative soul.

2010-2011