Once again I found myself in the graveyard. It was an old graveyard. The grass was grown over. Only one headstone was readable for mold covered the rest. It was a cold and eerie night, pitch black. Like all the light and goodness had been sucked out of the night. Even the moon gave no relief because of the thick cloud coverage closing in on me. The night was suffocating.
Every time I find myself here, I look down upon the stone to see a name engraved upon it. Elegant, just like her name, her face, her person, her demeanor. She was almost angelic in her ways. So pretty it tortures me so much more. It brings me back to that night when I ruined that elegant, angelic face, when I blemished it by her own blood. I do not remember how long ago those horrible events happened. I have lost track of time in my depression. Night, darkness, and gloom are all that is left for me. I drown in them.
A scream echoes. I look around. No, was it coming from me? I am going crazy. Her face flashes in my head accompanied by, if possible, an even more bone chilling scream. The kind of scream that takes your breath from you and makes your blood run cold. That cuts through you to your bones and makes them rattle. I look around frantically but there is no one in sight. Am I the only being in the universe? I start shaking uncontrollably. I fall to the ground, nothing more than a crumpled ball. Weakened, destroyed by my memory.
Barely able to see, my eyes focus on her name again, carved into the cold stone. A name that should never have been there, a name that deserved better, a name that I will never forget, a name that will haunt me forever. A name….
More memories of that night flood back to me in a tidal wave, suffocating me, drowning me in horror. Events that should have never happened, ones that will haunt me until my end. A dark, dark night much like tonight. The only light emanates from the full moon perched way up in the sky. Wispy gray clouds fill the sky. Stumbling through the door, late at night I found my way to her room. She is sleeping, so defenseless and innocent. Like the calm before the storm. I can’t admit that I am the storm. That I am the evil that- I cannot bare this. To think further on this would be to commit suicide but I must go on. I must!
I stood over her, and looked into her eyes. They screamed innocence. I vaguely remember the rest of that night but I remember enough for it to torment me, to destroy me. I have asked myself why so, so many times and I have come up with no answer. I am a tortured man condemned by my own hand.
The knife, I don’t know where it came from. I just knew it was in my hand when my temper spiked. I was suddenly engulfed in rage. A war cry escaped my lips, adrenaline flowed through my blood, and my rage rattled my bones. Darkness radiated from me. Without my needing to tell it to, my hand moved. The knife was plunged deep down into-
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” an agonized scream that I am sure cannot be mine but I know it is. I cannot think of that night. It will be the end of me but I am already at the end aren’t I? I have been begging for death since that night. But things don’t work like that. The innocent are the first to go and the guilty are the last. We are tortured with life.
My hands fly to my face, clawing at my skin, ripping out my hair. I am unclean. This is a killer’s face not mine. I refuse to be a killer. I am a tormented man, a disturbed man. I am a lonely man. I am an insane man? I continue to claw at my head. I want to crack open my head, and pull apart my brain. I cannot handle this. I am not even safe within my own head. The torment, it never ends! I want to scream, to cry out, but my mouth will not move. The end, are you near?
I see a figure coming out of the darkness. He is covered in blood. His eyes, they scream insanity. But he is unaware. He is a tortured man, haunted by his past. He is a killer of innocence. He is a monster. He is…me.