Murder! Ah, not long back, I learnt murder meant making any living being motionless with an attack by anything you may like. I like to take a pistol to do it. It’s safe and more convenient than using a knife. A clean, painless kill what you should go after.
At present, it means, for me! Killing of our soul by doing a sin, and expect no mercy by any God. It does not matter for Him what I am. I could be you, reading how to kill someone, and then actually enjoying it.
Because I am like you, a tormented, tortured human, but the difference is, I have an empty soul, and you may have something there. Not talking about our physical appearance! Because I know we are jealous of each other, and why would not be? Do I really have to speak the reasons why you must believe me?
Wait! Therefore, I think I shall come to the point. The story, which you are reading, is about him and not me. It is not a love story, damn people! But it can be if you think. I am alone now like living-room vintage piece, stored in a cold room.
Before I reveal whatever shit eating me up, you must know I have a pistol and a bottle of poison. I brought these with my dad’s money. Why would I buy my own death on my money? I remember the feelings, love, lust, made my life hell. I lied every night in pain, feeling one, knowing I would not die.
‘Do you love me? If yes, then goddamn say it.’ I thought this! I asked him many times, but he replied the same. I really desired to hate it.
‘Yes. Do leave me alone! You are not yourself with me…I am busy.’ He was cruel but innocent. Might be nothing was there. I wanted to hear something else, as he loved me or I really loved you.
Those were the days of school. Feelings rose like a heavenly fire, and it seeks the innocent ones. I was not one of them. If you ever thought to hurt someday, you and I are same. I embraced all that, but you would never will.
My mom used to say, every needless time I went out in the night that you’re nineteen, but you not matured, my dear. Careful from others! What she meant by others, I never thought about it seriously. It was my age to be free. I was a fucking woman and I didn’t care what hell or heaven awaited me.
You do know Shakespeare. He was one bastard writer. Well, all writers understand what they are, no one ever believed, and they create to please people, and some write nothing, but truth that will perform sodomy. One of them might say one night can change your life. I had not taken it seriously and when I had to know the true meaning behind these words I found myself looking in the mirror, and depressed.
‘Did you use protection last night?’ This was the first question of my life I asked openly! Now, what would you expect with a talking nightmare?
‘What do you mean by protection? We did not discuss that, did we? I can hope you will find someone else.’ I could not believe how calm he was when these words left his heart. In my heart they marked something more horrific than the world itself. I went and devoted myself to books as much as I could. I could not tell even my mom about this.
Here, I must say, I committed to understanding god. And I could not trust whatever he left in this world of his. Whenever I tried to free my mind of those moments tore mine apart. I could not help, but I started enjoying all that suffering inside. Might be I was too weak to understand, he broke my trust, and I could become a mother if I chose. I tried to ask help from Him, but he refused as far as I could know.
Here, I must confess, I tried to know if I was going to be a mother or not. It was the year 1920, I was living in a detached part of the world. I realised that deed was my sin. As a woman, I did not trust myself but I murdered. I mutilated the feminine I had received as a gift. I become a murderer!
Not soon after the incident, my mom shared her feeling when she was giving birth to me. I could not handle myself. I vomited all to her.
She said, ‘Just forget what has happened. Many are like you in this world. Do not harm yourself more. You will find love again. Your heart will heal.’
Was she right? I cried for the whole night. I would not get a chance to feel like a mother. A mother who would not bear a child.
I controlled my anguish and called for him, we did talk, and that ended with some abusive words. He said that he had no time for me. I was a harlot for him. I told I loved him. What had my heart doing?
Time went along, it has been one year, and I am not able to hold myself to be alive more. As a girl, I am not beautiful, as a woman, I am a harlot, as a mother, I am a murderer, as a living being, I am a destroyer, as a soul, I am not pure. But as a sinner, I am going to die. Is it sad? I do not think so.
Here lies my heart, in confusion! Because I am not able to decide how I should end! What about pistol? I think it will kill me swiftly! What about poison? I think it will kill slowly! I chose both of them. Death probably happy that I am dying.
‘Send me back! He has come for me. Mom did not tell me that he would come soon. Break this glass and please let me go in that world!’ I screamed. The glass wall stood strong. I cannot go into that world. He comes to me but I ruined my life.
‘You chose yourself. You were saying that I, the almighty, was waiting for you. I had not told you. Did I, you filth? Now, you are blaming me. I cannot send you back. You have to live in this world. Your soul should not go beyond this realm. Just watch how your body will blend in the earth again, the last time.’
I stayed back. This world is beautiful. No one ever goes old. There are only pure souls that are living in their pure body. Everybody is content. No hate and there is love and creations.
‘I am sad. I wanted to go to that world. I am happy. I can feel a Goddess. I must tell myself this world is better than that.’
‘I should live happily. There is no hate and untrusted. You could bear it again.’ He said and vanished.
‘I have left again, to wonder what I did. The glass wall closed and I cannot see in that world. I can believe now!’
‘We’re losing her! Give her a shock, goddamn it!’ said the doctor, looking straight at Julia.
‘She’s gone, doctor.’ said the nurse. “We lost another bipolar artist, it’s a shame! She had a spirit, but a curse to never trust herself.’