I couldn’t care less. It doesn’t matter me. no, I have no feelings. I am numb and I don’t feel things. At all. I am a dummy doll. I don’t have sensations or emotions like the humans. And it doesn’t matter me.
These were the few lines I had been repeating in my mind since a long time. And they were indeed true. They were the lines I had been told several times before heading to this place. And these were something I had been made to memorize by my master. But then, why did I feel so heavy in my chest?
Is that my heart feeling heavy because of all the pain? But it can’t be possible, a slayer like me doesn’t hold a heart, I can’t ever have a heart. By the mercy of my lord, I don’t hold a heart because he didn’t give me one. My lord. My god. In whose name, I am here to devote myself. by making these petty sacrifices, to him. He asked me to do it, through the words of my master.
I am a slayer. I have been named this by my master. But they call me a TERRORIST. Only if I had known what did that mean. My master is the hand of god. Our god. Our god has sent him, down on this iniquitous place, so that people like us, the slayers, are guided in the right path and make this globe, a virtuous place for our survival. And Master says that he can actually talk with god. And god had asked him to guide us. I was insignificant little creep, but still master chose me. I am really blessed.
Master taught me a lot of things. Apart from teaching us the divine words, he taught us how to use a rifle. I hope you know what a rifle is, because I didn’t know about it. And when I asked master, he chaffed and whipped me. But after that day, I understood. Really well. You know what? Master says that I am a quick learner. He tells me, and others as well, that when I came there to our small camp. I was an evil being. A person, who had heart. But then master carved me into a well-being.
But today, when I had to actually perform the ritual of sacrifice. By killing the people, the walking devils, by our sacred rifles. I felt heavy on hearing their screams. Master told, that we should feel exultant, but it happened the completely opposite. I felt guilty. I feel elegiac. I feel heartbroken.
Those eyes, still have an impact on me. and I am sure, this is all because of those orbs. I killed that girl’s mother. And was going to kill that girl child too. I had my rifle pointed at her forehead. And she was scared, it was visible in her eyes. She joints her hand in front of her chest, as if pleading me to not to hurt her, as if pleading me to bring back her mother from the dead. She was about 4-5 years of old. And her eyes, carried that terror which I was afraid of myself. but still I shot her, as told. Three times.
Those dark brown pools, reminded me of something, which I had forgotten. Maybe something from my past life? I am yet to know. Tears, like the pearls glistened in her eyes. And she looked right through my soul. Kind of people we meet in our business. But she shattered me. and now I am dying in my own mind.
Faint memories of a laughter are filling up my mind, and I could see eyes. Those big dark brown eyes. I had a sister, of the same age as her. In this life? Or maybe in the past? I don’t know. I loved her. And I loved our family. my mother, my father and my little angelic sister. I remember we played together. Before, the bombing took place and ruined everything in front of my eyes. I see a man, a faint image of a man, standing right in front of me. My sister hiding behind.
He laughs. Grabs my angel out and shots her in her tiny head. I shout. And all I see is blood. Red. Red. Red. The man is my master. the one whom, I had been preaching since ever like a god, is Satan. And I have been following the orders of a malevolent till now?
But I can’t do it anymore. I can not kill the innocent in the name of my master. Because master is not the hand of god, but a partisan of Satan. And now I know it.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
I see someone approaching me. I try to run, but I hear a familiar noise. The sound of laughter. Those big dark brown eyes. It is my angel. My little sister. She gives me her hand, and for that time, I forget everything, every sin I committed. Every innocent life I took away that day. We walk in the mist, somewhere unknown, where the way takes us. I tell her a joke and she laugh. I smile. Genuinely for the first time, in the past 18 years.
News flash.
A 28-year-old young terrorist found dead in his own pool of blood. Police recognizes the case as a suicide. The young man, shot himself in head. Three times.
Escapist 