“I was bored and alone in a waiting room, so i just wrote this one up free-style. I may go back and do something more with this, I don’t know yet. Anyways, it’s something.”
Hello father. I called for you not to repent, or justify the terrible things ive down, no. I need to tell someone how this whole thing came to be.
It was a Sunday afternoon when i was standing over my wife’s hospital bed, signing the papers that would allow them to cut the cords, and why not? there was no way she could ever come back from being in a car accident that bad. I had to swallow that bitter pill of reality, and not only understand, but deal with the fact that my wife was dead, thanks to some drunk driver motherfucker, who couldn’t even stop to call an ambulance for her, no. He just drove us, leaving her in the street to die. That was a month ago. Could you believe that the cops never found out who did it? They just closed the case, as if she was of no importance to anyone. I’ll tell ya, you don’t know pain until it hits home.
I hadn’t cried since i was a kid, but seeing my wife dead on that hospital bed did more damage to me then I’ve ever been through in my entire life. There is something about your closest loved one dying that just — i don’t know, tears your world apart. It hit me like a ton of bricks, head-on and without mercy.
I’ll be honest with you, father, I’ve never been a religious person, but after seeing what that hit-and-run driver did to my wife, i hoped and begged for a God to exist, but i knew better. There is no God, we just die, and that’s all there is to it. That was my philosophy on life and religion. Nobody is watching us, hell, i could go hit someone at the right time, and get away with it, as if i never did. Sucks doesn’t it, to believe that there is no God, and then want to believe there is one, when pain really hits home.
Believe it or not, father, but just as i began to look through my phone to inform my mother-in-law of the situation, I was greeted by someone whom I’ve never met. He was a tall white male with pale, milky white skin. For an old man, he sure did have a healthy set of hair. His long, straight white locks stopped pass his broad shoulders. He was well dressed, middle-aged and creepier than one of those paintings that you think are looking at you. He had a Hitchcockian presence about him.
He said his name was Urien, and claimed to be a friend of the family. We talked for hours about our six years of marriage, even the miscarriages and down periods, all of which we bounced back from. I could talk to him for hours more about how much i loved my wife, and i just loved that he was listening, and taking in every word spoken. Then came the question…
Yeah, the question… If I could bring my wife back to life, would I? I answered it with the understanding that there was nothing more i could do to change the situation, but he asked as if he wanted to know exactly what i would and would not do in the name of my wife. Then came the next question, which was more than just a question, it was more like a proposition. He looked me dead in the eyes and asked if i would kill to bring her back. I paused at first, but couldn’t stop thinking about the bastard that took her from me, and what i would do to him if i ever found out who he was. With the thought of him in my head, answered “YES.”
He looked down at the floor for a brief period, then slowly lifting his head to look back at me, he said, “Listen well and chose wisely, my boy, for i will only offer this to you once.” Looking into his soulless eyes and reading his blood-red lips, i listened with evil thoughts and a broken soul. His offer was simple and straight to the point. All i would have to do is blow up a building filled with people i don’t know. If i could be successful in this, he promised he could make my wife’s accident as if it never happened. I agreed, and quickly thought up a plan and constructed my weapons. It didn’t take long, as i couldn’t wait to see my wife again.
Two days was all it took for me to drop the entire building. I remember hearing on the news that four hundred people were killed in the event. I couldn’t believe what I’d done, but i wanted my wife badly, and would do anything to change the hands of time.
My cell phone rang, just as he promised it would, had i succeed with my mission. I picked up and heard the voice of my wife, speaking to me as if nothing had ever happened. It was the greatest day of my life, but the feeling had only lasted two minutes, as i was spotted by witnesses who had seen me planting devices around and across the building. Before i could make a move, i was surrounded by an army of police officers. It was over, just like that.
So i sit here before you father, just hours away from my execution, alone, regretful, and scared to death. I’d like to believe that doing what i did was the right thing, but it was clear that i had done more harm than good. I had took the lives of over four-hundred men and women, and had put people through the same pain and sadness that i was going through. The tables had turned, and soon, i’ll be seated before a room of people whos loved ones i killed, and in that room, making his final guest appearance in my life, will be that pale-skinned, tall middle0maged man i met during the darkest and most vulnerable time of my life. Standing in the back row will be the Devil, salivating, waiting to see the look on my face before the lethal injection.
I never heard anymore from my wife. I never thought that through the acts i committed, i would end up losing her in another way. Man, The Devil sure does know how to trick a man.