The Murderer's Repentence
by Amalshan GUNARATHNE
 The
murderer stared at the mirror. The crushed reflection of his disfigured
face sent a shiver through his veins. He looked in to the mirror and
tried to comb his ruffled hair. Yet, he was not satisfied with his own
reflection and banged the hair brush on the cement floor as if to show
his aggravating dissatisfaction towards his own reflection.
He sent the hand to his trouser pocket and pulled out what seemed to
be a discoloured photograph. His grey eyes gazed at the portrayal for a
several minutes. The glum eyes were glued to the wornout photograph of
his mistress. The sudden burst of rage that came to his eyes was quite
instantaneous. His dark eye balls fumed with fury. The transformation of
his facial expressions was quite terrifying that he looked away from the
pathetic site of his own reflection
He clenched his rigid fists and gave a sturdy punch to the mirror as
if to express his resentment towards his own reflection.
The mirror shattered to bits and pieces bruising his right hand quite
severely. Then he sat down beside the bathroom sink. The sudden shift in
his facial expressions was quite remarkable.
The face which was sheltered with horrific rage moments ago changed
to a one of repentance and grief. He clutched the sink and started to
cry. The memories of the dreaded day flickered through his mind. His
thoughts went back to the day where he murdered his wife. He came home
that evening after the usual outing with his mistress. He has been
dating her for three months.
The mistress was a sensuous young woman in early twenties. He still
remembered the day where her seductive eyes captured him at the local
tavern. Her hazel eyes aroused his senses like no woman has ever done in
his life. He was about to order a martini when she came and spoke to
him.
"Hello, I haven't seen you around here before. Who are you?"
The murderer was quite excited. He replied, "I am someone who wishes
to stay anonymous. May I know who I am talking to?"
"Let's just say, I am someone who wants to stay mysterious too," she
replied in a very seductive voice.
"Are you teasing me, ma'am?"
"Nope, I am just being myself"
"Do you always go and talk with strangers like this?"
"No, you aroused my curiosity..."
"Why is that?"
"Because you look like a criminal from a Hollywood movie. I like your
looks."
 "What
do you mean a criminal?"
"I mean, you look like a killer from a Hollywood thriller."
"HA HA... Wow that's flattering. Here have martini."
"No, we can't stay in this gloomy tavern. Let's go out."
That's where it all started. The mysterious couple has being dating
for three months after that exciting union. For three months, the
murderer cheated on his wife. He couldn't really explain the kind of
feeling he had for his mistress. He couldn't explain whether it was
love, passion or lust that drew him towards her. Yet, one thing was
certain; the aura of mystique that seems to surround her excited him and
aroused his senses. She gave her a chance to get away from his pathetic,
mundane home-life.
On that very dreaded day, he was daydreaming and still feeling the
effects of the most passionate outing he had with his mistress, when he
was brought back to earth by the irritating voice of his son.
"Why on earth did you kill her, Dad?"
"What do you mean, Son?"
"Admit it dad, why did you kill my Mom?"
"What are you talking about, Son?"
"You have been stabbing her heart for the last three months aren't
you, Dad? Why can't you admit to that? And now she is dead for good. Go
to your room and see it for yourself. You are a killer!!"
To say that he was left off-guarded was an understatement. He
searched for words but nothing seemed to come out from his lips. Somehow
or other, he pulled himself out from his sofa and rushed to the second
floor. He opened the door to find the horrid figure of his wife's body
hanging from the ceiling and her lifeless face staring at him as if
accusing him for her death. He felt sick; he walked towards the bed to
find a note which seems to have been written specially for him. The
letter simply read,
"I saw you with her."
He felt sick; the feeling of guilt that swept through his veins was
intolerable. He reached for the telephone on the bedside and dialed the
number of his mistress. He listened to what she has to say in utter
disdain.
"You are a wife killer; you have been strangling her for the last
three months and I am happy that her misery has finally come to an end."
He dropped the receiver on the floor as he couldn't listen to her
anymore. He looked himself into the mirror and saw himself incarcerated
in a mind forged prison cell as the thought struck him hard in his mind
that he is a cold blooded murderer. |
