She looked into my eyes and I saw hers.
Empty, dead pools filled with venom, the same poison flowing into my blood. Deadly toxins igniting my brain into a frenzy mode.
I rose my gun, took a good look at the helpless figure crouched on the ground below me and I pulled the trigger.
The echo of the shot reverberated through my essence as I lowered my weapon and lit up a cigarette, watching the last struggles of a dying body.
Silence followed the macabre sound of life leaving it.
I turned on my heels and staggered out of the alley, the deed was done.
I do not know when this weight will be lifted off my shoulders, for now all I can do is keep going. A need is possessing my limbs, silencing my conscience to commit these grave sins. I cannot find peace, not even this Church serves as refuge for my distorted mind.
'Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I have sinned greatly in your presence and more than that, in your absence. I stabbed you in the back when you weren't looking and I feasted upon your beloved children,' I murmur in the empty nave and my soft spoken confession reaches the double barrel vaults.
'The Great Father forgives you, child, for he is merciful above all'. I hear a voice behind me and I am prompted to turn. I cannot make out his face, the light is too dim, but I can tell form his clothes that he must be a priest. His shadow trembles in the candlelight and I wonder if I am seeing a vision, another trick of my mind.
But his warm, callous hand reassures me that he is indeed made of flesh and blood. I can see him a bit better now that he has gotten closer to me and as I make space for him to sit, my eyes study his features. He is old and his dark appearance gives him a devilish aura despite the cloth he wears. His yellow teeth – the ones that haven't gone missing yet – smile at me and I involuntary cringe.
His grip on my arm tightens and he asks, 'Would you like to share your torments with an old man?' His glaucous eyes pierce my hazel ones and I am suddenly paralysed. My tongue is dead against the bottom of my mouth and I cannot speak.
His smile widens and that only makes me more apprehensive, I feel looked through by those clear eyes as if he is able to gaze upon my very soul. 'Fear not, no one else is in here and I am bound by a severe oath to keep the content of our talk a secret'.
I clear my throat, I cannot trust this man, yet words roll out of my lips before I can stop them. I tell him of the misdeeds I have committed and he nods in silence as if listening to my shopping list. I expose myself in front of him, counting all of the lives I have claimed, all the murders my bloodied hands have been stained with.
I confess even as I know that I will strike again, maybe this same night.
I tell him that and he nods, gravely.
I need to cleanse my soul, I plead him, and he squeezes my hand reassuring me that he is there. He will listen to me every time and be by my side like a shadow obscuring my path.
The weight is still there, but the burden is less heavy to carry now that I can share it with some else. I fall to my knees and raise my prayers to the good God who has allowed me to see another day. The priest watches my back in silence, as I walk out of his house and into the sun. I don't see it, but his lips curl up in an iniquitous smile.
It was Helen who brought me down to the hellish bowels of Troy. A burning city in despair, the smell is indescribable. Death hovers above its people. And I am no Hector, I do not die at the hand of an irate Achilles. I am the Aeneas of this ploy, sent to an unwelcoming land to consume the vengeance of the dead. To placate their souls, my destiny is embroiled in Fate's thread.
I serve her Justice; I scrutinize the world and hunt upon those who have failed to hear her cries. There's no satisfaction in this job, it is merely what I do.
Another bullet and another cigarette, why is a fourteen-year-old boy lying in a pool of blood at my feet? Because it was her will.
She is the hammer and I am the anvil upon which we shape the world; like heated metal, it needs to be purged and refined.
Her death is not a hindrance to our plan. It is indeed the engine that started it.
Victim, of this rotten society. Broken, by the Sinners out there. But I have become the worst of them all, a martyr, I cannot find peace.
No one seems to question me as I walk through the crowd, no sparkle of joy left into my eyes. No tears either, not anymore. A numb thud accompanies my steps, it is my dying heart.
I serve her Justice, and I cannot help it. She haunts me as I haunt the streets, corpse after corpse. The relief is brief, the urge for more deaths plunges my mind further into the darkness as I step out of my closet again. It is them, who need to pay. Them who abused and used her. Living proof that I still have work to do.
I turn the corner and take a breath, noxious drugs invading my lungs. There's a mother holding her baby, one bullet will suffice. I pull trigger and don't look down. There's no need to check, I have grown used to the feeling of Death.
I can feel them following me, watching closely my actions. Will I be judged insane? I only wished to quench her thirst, but her throat was slit open and the water would fall through.
Her hands were cut, and I could not hold them while she became colder.
She was already dead, but the ominous request her empty eyes made to me still stands.
Another bullet, another life. I cannot shake that picture away from my sight. Her features distraught, my love even more so.
To punish the innocents, that is my Redemption. The only way to keep her ghost appeased.
My finger twitches, it's almost time. I load my pistol and walk out. Another innocent will fall today.
And every time I look into their eyes, I see hers.