The man killed her. That's all I know. And that's all I'll say. But rest assured, he won't get away with it...
I saw the life leave her eyes and I saw the frightful astonishment of her killer. I saw her drop to the floor. I saw the man's face, and it burned an eternal image of despair and hopelessness into the innermost regions of my mind. I saw the man clearly, but he did not see me. In trial, they found no evidence. There were no other suspects. I suspected no other man. They released him, claiming he was not guilty of the murder. They said that he was not the instigator of her deliberate death. But I knew. I knew — I knew all too well! — I knew it was him. How could the court not trust the power of my eyes, how could they? I was behind glass, not some hallucinogen. They punished me! The treacherous court banished me to a facility for "people like me". But no one is anything like me. I have a plan. They say I have gone mad, crazy, even insane. They think I need to be looked after, like a child. My mind is far beyond that of a mere child. But I have one thing in common with a child — children run away. And that is just a minor part of my plan
Everywhere I go I see him. I remembered his face when the judge told me that he was innocent. I see his face sometimes when a man is infuriated at my facility. I see him in the news, on the faces of foreign radicals, insane killers, and jail inmates. Ha! And they say I am a madman! I hate the man, so much that even I am fearful of how deep my hatred runs. I can feel it constantly running through my veins, cold and shaking, a deep, violent trace of misery that burns my inner soul, eating away at my sanity, a constant reminder of what I must do. It consumes all of my energy, all of my thoughts, all of my life. Nothing compares to the continuous torture that the man has brought upon me.
The time has come, and to end my misery I must end his life. My plot has been meticulously crafted, with every detail rooted in my mind. It would take perfect execution to pull this off without any evidence that I killed the man. I have learned that tonight is his night for the night shift. I will have my chance — my long awaited chance! — my chance for redemption will be on this night.
I had smuggled a screwdriver into my facility a week ago and have stowed it under my mattress. Tonight I grasp it firmly in my hand, adrenaline pumping, as I unscrew the window frame in my dwelling just enough to push my hand through. My accomplice, who I dare not name, is waiting on the other side. He is able to slide the window panes inside, and I place it below my bed. I silently move through the new opening, slowly — very, very slowly — so slowly that my breaths come more frequently than an inch's worth of movement. My partner in crime hands me a knife, my weapon. He insists that he keep the gun, and when I raise my eyebrows at the statement, he noted that the path he would take to the murder site would be a tougher route, and he might need it more than I would. I shrug it off, and we set off on our separate paths.
While I walk, the hatred swells inside of me, flaring up at moments of intense emotion. I walk for half an hour in my black pants and black long sleeve shirt until I start recognizing my surroundings. When I look around I see his face in ordinary pedestrians through the windows in stores, not just in someone doing something wrong. I pass a library, the local mall, the police station, a supermarket, and eventually I end up within 100 yards of the spot. I check my wristwatch. I have 4 minutes until I am supposed to round the corner. My anger starts to grow to an uncontrollable rage. I start to sweat, the knife becoming slick in my hands.
Two minutes. The memories of her, seeming ages ago, but also surprisingly fresh in my mind. This only adds to my extreme anger and deep rage. It takes all of my willpower to stop myself from rapidly turning the corner and facing the man. But my accomplice would be here any minute. I wait — it seems like hours but I know it is only seconds and still I wait — I wait for my lethal collaborator to arrive. The time eats away, and soon I realize that something must have gone wrong. I decide that my window of opportunity is dwindling.
I make up my mind and take action. As I round the corner, I think of her, I think of her murder, I think of her life. That's when something inside me snaps. It's like all the anger and emotion I have ever felt was stored up inside my soul, and as I turn the corner, the floodgates open and I feel no fear. I feel the purest of all emotions. It is as if my mind is filled with this feeling, reaching every nook and cranny of my soul. I can not control this terribly intense emotion so as I turn the corner I lose all sanity, all goodness left in my heart, and I lose all sense of humanity. I become an animal when this pure feeling flows so smoothly throughout my body that I feel nothing else. This emotion is agonizing, violent, extremely powerful fury.
But as I turn the corner I do not see what I expect to see. I see the man, staring me in the eye, with a long machete pointed straight at my chest. But what surprises me the most is the man standing next to him. I know him all too well, and he knows my plan. He is my comrade, my accomplice, my partner in crime. And in his right hand he points the barrel of his gun directly at my face. He smiles, an evil grin, an expression that sends chills down my spine. Next to him, the man stares straight into my soul. I lose all of my adrenaline and the stares of the traitor and the murderer turn my confidence into total, true, complete fear.
That's when I see her. She comes from behind the men, an apparition but at the same time the realest thing I've ever seen. She calls out my name, and her voice shatters my soul and puts it back together all at once, giving me just the boost that I need. I drop my knife and dive out towards my ex-accomplice and knock the gun from his hands. I fall to the ground on top of the weapon. Meanwhile, her voice visibly startles the murderer, causing him to drop to his knees, his head quickly snapping back, and as he drops to the ground lifelessly his machete falls beside him, landing right next to the remaining man, the traitor. The traitor quickly swoops it up and hurls it at my chest with a loud cry and, before I can react, she grabs it out of the air and turns it towards the traitor.
His eyes fill with fear, and what she does next surprises everyone. She hands it back to the man, and just as soon as she appeared, she is gone, seeming to be swept away with the wind. The man lunges towards me to try to knock the gun out of my hands, but fails to recognize where he grabs it. I let go, but it makes no difference. The bullet, now lodged in his chest, instantly kills him. It all happens so fast, and while I stand in the puddle of blood, somehow content, I see the mans face in him.
I look to a nearby window, and what I see startles me. I draw in closer, and what I see questions everything I think I know. I see the man's face in the reflection, and I realize it is mine. It has always been mine. I quickly spin around when I hear a slow dragging sound, and I see myself stand up, looking me in the eye. I stare at myself, and that's when I realize what has really happened. I freeze, with a throbbing in my chest. I know something is wrong inside of me, and as I look towards myself, I feel a deep hatred. Behind him, where the traitor's body and blood should be, there is nothing. I understand it all. I did it. I killed her. The squeezing in my chest gets more intense, and I drop to the ground. My heart feels like it's on fire. I look at myself, and he's smiling at me. While the last traces of life drain out of my soul, he laughs. I killed her.
I killed her.