“You think you did something great, huh? I killed my own wife’s second husband, can you compete with that?” The speaker was a huge man. Biceps, the size of my leg, he could have killed someone just by holding them tight.
“Why did you do it?” I thought the safest questions are always the most obvious once.
“We just had a divorce and she wouldn’t let me see my own son, just because I did drugs. It got nasty one day and he came in between us. Fifteen stabs through the stomach are what he got. So, what are you in for hothead, did you kill somebody?”
“No, I didn’t. I threw acid on the face of the love of my life because she said she won’t marry me.”
“Are you sure that guy did not die after the second or third stab? Are you sure his eyes were open to see your expression the last moment of his life?
“When you killed him, he just died, end of the story. I, on the hand, I did not take away her life; I made sure that rest of her life goes under the shadow of constant pain & suffering and that death becomes a mode of redemption. I ensured that mine is the face she sees every night when no sleep finds her, mine is the laugh that revolves in her head, mine are the eyes which she can’t look into. I stood there hearing the chisel of the acid hitting her face, saw the skin melting away. Nothing for her was going to end now, the screams were just the beginning, start of a life, I planned for her. Where she wakes up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat just by the thought of my presence.”
“Why did you do that?”
“All I ever wanted was for her to spend the rest of her life with me, when that didn’t seem like a possibility; I created a scenario where she will spend an eternity filled with my thoughts. My actions will surely consume every emotion of hers, rage, anger, frustration, sadness and even success. As a true lover, I will stand by her in every step of life, as that scar I gave her. Surely, I did not kill anyone, but anyway I produced a corpse.”
His eyes were fixed on me and his mouth wide open. Words failed him now and finally a low murmur was heard
There have always been speculations about criminals being capable of showing guilt and acceptance. What I don’t understand is, why confuse both?
I never denied having attacked her, but I never said I was sorry about it.