What if someone went back in time and told a person from medieval times that we live in a minuscule part of the universe, would they believe it? Would they even care?
Probably not, after all, even with the evolution of science that showed us the truth, it's still hard for a normal person to visualize just how small we really are, how our actions impact so little that it isn't unreasonable to say that our actions don't even matter at all.
Most people are locked behind their own point of view, selfish beings. As if the universe revolves around them, as if they are the main characters of life. Are they wrong though? Is it wrong to say that your reality is limited by your perception? Maybe yes, or maybe no. There is no right answer to this question or at least none that I know of, yet.
There's a saying from where I'm from, that says: "What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel"
But what happens to these people? They live these conceited lives, believing in what they choose to believe, will everything always go their way? No, it's only when tragedy hits them that they realize life it's not like the stories you read or watch, no, they don't have a setting, no build-ups, sometimes not even character development, and especially no happy ending.
That is not to say that there are no person with happy lives or even people who have happy endings, it's just that what are the odds? The more time passes, the more it's clear that math, something that we invented. A field of science used to represent physically the rules of our observable universe. It is easy to see that statistically, certain events will happen in the lives of a certain number of people.
Every time you leave your house and come back safely, the next day the odds of you being run over by a truck increases, and that goes on and on and on, every time, for every action, every consequence, your life can be summarized by numbers, numbers so big we call them infinity in our ignorance.
Why am I even saying all this bullshit? The point I'm trying to make is that even though I knew all of this throughout my life it still surprised me when I looked into my parents' bedroom just to see both of them, dead.
The smell, their pale skin, their lifeless eyes, I can remember it, remember it all, I can't even say I recall it, because it never went away, it was always in my head.
I always considered myself a rational person, someone who even in the worst of situations would be able to overcome their fears and think my next step.
But there I was, so incredibly still, from the pure shock, my eyes hurting from how big I opened them, the feeling of the sweat dripping down my skin, the cold feeling in my stomach, the denial fading from my mind slowly.
After that day it is an understatement to say that I was obsessed, why? Because the police weren't able to find the culprit. My parents were normal people on normal jobs, they never entered a fight, they never had enemies, no one had a reasonable motive to kill them, but that only made everything worst, they didn't have any leads.
By the footprints of his boots, it was probably a male, but that obviously wasn't enough.
What most people don't know, or don't realize is that crimes go unsolved way more easily than you would think. Any smart enough killer would be able to dribble the law.
What happens if you kill someone you don't know, a random person, selected by chance? Plus if you are careful to not leave obvious leads, like fingerprints or utensils you used? What if all the tools of the crime, your boots, were things you bought randomly years ago? How would they find you? That's for me to find out.
Yes, after 3 years of the murder of my parents I decided that I was the one who was going to solve it, I realized I was the only one with enough investment in it to never give up, putting my total focus on it, to be able to do anything to get to the bottom of this.
But again, I wasn't a rash person, I would first prepare myself. Everything that I thought would be needed, it doesn't matter if it would help a little bit, or if it didn't matter at all, if it had a small chance of helping me with my revenge, I would do it.
First I sold our house, invested all of it, nothing mattered to me anymore, even if I had to live in my car.
After 10 years of MMA training, detective courses, learning how to shoot, I even risked myself in street fights, to get used to it, I needed the experience, I didn't know who was I dealing with, I had to think about everything.
But my search was over, because I found him, yes, after 13 years I found the bastard who killed my parents. My biggest surprise? He was a normal guy, a middle-aged man living with his wife and son. The thought of the man who ruined my life smiling always enranged me, but seeing it now, I'm holding myself to not rush up to him and kill him in his yard.
But I waited, waited for the sun to go down, and kill this bastard in his sleep, just like he did to my parents. Other people would probably disagree with me, saying that I should torture him, that a quick death was too little of a punishment.
But people who never were in my situation don't understand, every second, every minute, every hour that passes while he's alive, it leaves me scratching myself, I need it, I crave it, he needs to die. I know what I'm doing, I know who I am, and I'll do it because I'll like it, I'm sitting in my car in front of his house and I'm scratching myself to kill him, to punish him.
It's time, they are already asleep. Going through their backyard, picking the lock in their door, it's so easy, it's unreal, my heart is beating, I never felt more alive.
Carefully going up the stairs, I slowly open the door of his bedroom.
I see him, it's so close, the time has come, everything is so visible, this is it, the end of this journey, my senses are at its peak, the sweat dripping down my skin, the cold feeling in my stomach, am I nervous? Of course, I'm nervous, 13 years, 13 long years, if you ask me how many times I've dreamed about this moment I'll ask you back, how many times have you eaten bread?
I have to stop thinking too much, focus on what I came here for, this isn't the time to fuck it up due to being uncareful, that's not a red flag is it?
*beep* *beep* *beep*
Alarm clock?? From the wife's cellphone, what's happening?
Of course, she wakes up in the middle of the night to take pills, argh, I should've been more careful, I've been watching them for three days but this could be a weekly thing or even a one-time thing, fuck.
I rush to her side of the bed, she hasn't seen me yet, the room is dark enough.
"Ah-"
She saw me through the corner of her eyes, as she was about to scream I covered her mouth, fuck fuck fuck, what am I going to do now?? If she wakes him up things could go bad, I don't know how careful he is, he may have ways to injure me.
This all happened in the span of 3 seconds, it's insane what the adrenaline and the rapid blood circulation do to your head.
In the heat of the moment, I had to make a decision, I decided to choke her, yes, to stop her breathing enough for her to pass out, that will solve it.
Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, please sleep. As she struggled in my arms the seconds that took for her to sleep seemed like hours, but eventually it all ended, her struggle stopped, I still held for a little longer, can't risk her faking passing out. I just hope the lack of oxygen doesn't leave long-term problems.
What am I even thinking? I'm about to kill her husband, this is the most important thing right now.
I slowly lay her back in the bed, he didn't wake up, I was lucky.
I circle around the bed, I'm looking directly at his face, sleeping, so peacefully. Who would've thought this seemingly innocent man was the reason for so much pain. I took out my knife.
*Swish*
In one fell swoop I stab him in his heart, he instantly wakes up, he looks at me, shocked, I know this face, it was only now that he realized, he isn't the main character, his death, such an uneventful death, on a Tuesday night, there was no build-up to this, no soundtrack, he had plans tomorrow, he was healthy, today wasn't his day to die, oh how wrong he was.
And at this moment I also had a realization, every time I pictured this day in my head, it was blissful, I imagined the smile on my face as he died on my hands, the satisfaction that came from killing the person I hated the most, but it never came, a bitter feeling assaulted me instead.
All the pain and suffering I had to deal with in the past 13 years, didn't go away. Even worst, all the possibilities that I abandoned to never lose focus on my objective, all came back to me, the people that I disappointed and shoved away, the way I isolated myself.
The moment of happiness that I was expecting was replaced by emptiness. I lived for this moment, and now that I'm here it's not what I imagined. I guess it's true what they say, the reality is often disappointin-
*Creak*
WHAT- I heard the door opening, who is it?? I quickly turn myself, it's... it's the kid, his son. He looks at me, holding the crime weapon that just killed his father, the look on his face... *sigh* how could I forget? It's always in my head after all.
Was I... wrong?