“Why did you become the devil’s spawn?” “Why have you stopped loving me?” “Why?!”
These, you asked as you walked out of the house, teary-eyed and filled with regrets. On your head was a box stuffed with terrible memories and slightly below your left ear was a large black scar, a sore reminder of the miseries and woes I’ve caused you. You looked back one more time, despairingly hoping and desperately clinging to the ideal man conceived in your almost pure mind. You prayed to God once more to save my already damned soul and return me to you perhaps, also, provide a speck of hope, one which might compel you to rescind your decision but I said nothing. Instead, I watched with disgust and immense bitterness. I sat emotionless and smirked as you disappointedly continued your journey. “Finally,” I told myself and breathed the softening air of freedom after three decades of a failed marriage. You died three months later.
THE PRESENT: RIGHTING MY WRONGS
Freedom now reeks of sorrow and remorse. It’s quite ironic how what I dearly yearned for is now the end of me. I can no longer think, depression being the revenge of my horrendous actions and atrocities. My organs are failing me after years of numbing myself with chemicals stored in fancy bottles. The end is near, and once again, I wish for a different breed of freedom. Freedom from the sins of my past, the memories of which have returned to haunt and hunt me. I knew I had to right my wrongs and after enough pondering and thinking, what I had to do became simple enough. I had to travel back to that fateful night.
THE PRESENT: WRITING MY WRONGS
With a pen and a book, I’m writing to amend history. It is an opportunity to finally tell my hurtful yet true intentions, thoughts hidden in the deepest crevices of my cranium. It’s the only way I get to answer your question, and it goes thus,
“You asked me why, why I became the devil’s spawn, why I stopped loving you, the truth is I never did. I never loved you before we got married, but I hesitated, and I couldn’t tell you because I was scared. I was scared of the thought of unleashing a dreadful upset, a discharge of titanic anger, leaving you in sobs and uncontrollable wails.
“It seemed better to, maybe, spend the next few decades trying to love you rather than allow you to experience minutes, hours or days of unbounded misery. I, simply, couldn’t risk dragging a formerly competent, independent and strong woman into chaos knowing you deserved more than that.
“Now, I realise how much I was consumed by folly and ignorance. Now I know me sparing you a breakup scene and delivering a life long foot-dragging scene that eventually led to your death was a cruel thing to do. Now I know how much I ruined you.
“You won’t read this, but this gives a shot, a chance to forgive myself and finally be at peace.”
I smiled, stared at the beautiful nurse waiting to change my drip and sighed gleefully. It was the last thing I did alive.