It was my fault

It chills me to the bone. Such evil cannot be comprehended but yet I did this. Who am I to cause others such pain yet shatter my own heart. Evil is a beast that tears into you with the claws of temptation. My God, I have sinned but no one has stopped me. I fear I will never end.

The voice knows me although I never know it. The nasal voice shrieks in the dark at me; breaking my sleep and coursing through my mind. It cuts me with what it says because it’s the truth.

“You MURDERER! You’ve been tainted since you were born! Even Satan’s spawn would reject the low, weak corrupted twist of a soul that you have. Don’t cry, we both know that you deserve no pity, not even from yourself!”

I hear it day-by-day, night-by-night. It lashes and hisses and spits insults at me but it’s right. I deserve no pity, no end to suffering. I have killed and killed again. It’s only a matter of time before someone finds me.

It wasn’t always like this. Only a few torturous weeks ago, I had a family. Two kids and a wife. Oh, Jackie… She loved me but I…

I must go on. It was all fine until I told her that I’d had an affair. I don’t know why I cheated, the opportunity presented itself and I took it. The other woman is not important, an unknown, just a one night stand. The guilt ate away at me until I couldn’t bear it and I confessed to her.

“Cheater. You broke poor little Jackie’s heart! As if you care, write the truth! You couldn’t care less about her; she was the best thing you had. You wormed your way like a maggot into her life and replaced her when you got bored. Murderer.”

The voice never leaves me alone. Sometimes I believe for a second that it’s gone. It always comes back with added vehemence and bitterness.
She broke down. So hurt that I stood staring in shock, a dumbfounded idiot. Tears came pouring out of her eyes and she looked at me like she could not understand what I said.

I apologised, over and over, but she wouldn’t hear it. She grabbed clothes and a few of her possessions. She took my kids with her, slamming the door on the way out. She drove away in her car and that’s the last I ever saw of any of them. Her car smashed into another, crushing her and my children. They died in fear and agony and it was because of me, my stupid actions that they died.

I murdered them.

The voice latched onto me then. Accusing and angry, always so angry. It hates me with an insane passion. I would kill myself but the fear of Hell stops me. A coward is what I am. And I despise myself for it.

I fear myself. I have no one to turn to yet I feel like I’m close to the edge. I dread what I will do; I don’t want to harm anyone. The voice threatened me before that it’d force me to.

“Yes, bloody and cruel, murders you shall commit! You have no choice, I’ll make you. Why? Because it’d break you into small pieces, slice through your heart and the guilt will be like a living death. Yes, I hate you.”

It sounds gleeful. No, I won’t do it. Damn it, I won’t! I run to the kitchen, grab a carving knife. Not again!

I slice across my wrists, blood oozing out of the wounds, flowing down my arms as I watch amazed. The scarlet river of my pain can be my only salvation. Not a coward no more. The voice grows distant as I grow faint. It curses softly before it vanishes. Blood loss, my only way out. Hell awaits me. Wish me well, my friend.