(Author's note: Violent theme ahead)
“Be a rebel”
I told myself. Rebel would be the last word someone would associate with me. I was a good student, a good citizen. Obedient. I gave my seat to old people. I never did something I would regret. As a child I was taught that being good counts. That is the only thing which counts. Like any other good child I kept it in my heart and went accordingly. Do good. Never disappoint others.
I looked up and saw the moon. It was full moon. That gave me the light to walk this far in the middle of the night. Somehow looking at the full moon calmed my nerves.
“Be a rebel" I told myself again.
Fight the inhibitions laid out on you by the society. Do what you want.
I kept encouraging myself.
My sister was better than me in all accounts. Even though she was 3 years younger to me I often looked up to her. She was a constant inspiration and motivation. Her messages would lighten me up during the bad days I had to endure. She was the epitome of goodness. The giver. Whatever she was doing, she always had time for others. To help others with kind words and deeds. She had a pleasant aura around her. She was an angel on earth. And now in heaven.
Brutally raped and killed.
The man who did it walked free. After a lot of courts, cases and what not, he was set free. Mental instability, as his advocate proved in the court. He was to be admitted in an asylum and not in a jail. But here he is, sleeping in the comfort of his room. That was a mistake he did.
Her throat was slit. When I saw her, she was lying on the ground with torn dress and her head at an unnatural angle with the body. The odour was unbearable; the dark nauseating odour of blood. It was all over the place. I had to walk on the blood to reach her; her blood. The same that flows through my veins. i screamed like never before. Not only then but many times after I saw her body. The image keeps coming back. I kept thinking what and all might have gone through her mind at those dreadful moments. How mistaken she was about the world and the people in it.
I am standing outside his room, the images of my sister running through my head. Somehow her smiling pleasant face is not coming to my mind. It is always the unnaturally angled head. With the blood, the nauseating odour of blood. My heart starts pumping the same blood in me, vigorously. I can feel my heart beat. Blood is rushing to my right hand, where I have a long knife.
I entered his room. I got a strong smell of alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke. The empty bottle on the table told me he is passed out. Perhaps the same alcohol might have led him to something like that to a fellow human being. His breathing was heavy. I looked at him.
How could he?
I asked this question to myself a thousand times but never got an answer. I am never gonna get that answer out of him. I don’t need an explanation. Explanations will not bring back my sister, neither does killing him. I know that but he shouldn't do it again. I am doing it for her.
She probably would have wanted me to forgive him and move on for an angel she is but I am not. I am mere human who gives in to his emotions. A brother, who wants to make sure that no brother would have to feel the same as I felt. A son, who wants to make sure no parent would have to go through what our parents went through.
I raised the knife, closed my eyes and slit his throat. He did not make a sound but his eyes were wide open when I opened mine. The dark nauseating smell of blood filled the place. The same odour.
The same blood runs through our veins beneath our skin, we choose to ignore that basic fact and act differently.
I came out of the room leaving him in his pool of blood, like how he left my sister.