Corridor of Portraits

Two

My name is Rui Feng Sakamoto. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

Oh, straight out of a storybook. How cliche. But what are you going to murder me with? Air? Sorry kid, but murders are much harder—

This.

Darn! A full-blown parang. 

Justice will be served.

Wait, I need to—

You hated him, right? No. You were just jealous.

Why would I be jealous of that weasel?

My father was a wonderful person.

So says?

My mother.

Your mother? Sting! Sting! Of course. She had a child. That’s why she dropped out. That’s why, that’s why…oh, Sting…

Enough rambling. I’ll make it quick, I promise. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll make it slow, so slow that you scream like a banshee as you fall into Death’s clutches…

How poetic. But really, it’s nice to know that I’m not the only liar here.

I’m not a liar.

So says one who pretended to be an art student to gain entry into the house of their victim.

Not victim. Murderer.

I am a murderer, but you should know something.

You took away my life. It was my dream to find him, meet him, bring him back home and have a father. A father who would take me to skim stones and ride bikes with me. I don’t need to know anything now, except that you are dead and deader than that. 

I didn’t murder your father.

You just confessed.

I did murder someone, but it wasn’t him.

What?! Do you expect me to believe that?!

That’s what I realised. After the spell of rhythm, rhyme, clockwork. And you would have known if you didn’t interrupt me so rudely. It wasn’t him. I-I was a cold-blooded murderer. Not a bringer of justice. 

Likely story.

Karma. Hah. Hahahahahah—

Any last words?

A person so blinded by anger takes the life of the person they believe was responsible. But it’s all not worth it, in the end…Just another life taken…Isn’t history repetitive.

Look, since you want to feed me your lies, I thought you’d like to know that I would only swallow them with some proof.

I have all the proof in the world.

Show it to me.

Nothing could be easier.

Now.