Infernal Attraction ©

Chapter VIII: Confessions?

"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.". Oscar Wilde.

Before answering to my question, Ethan takes a few seconds to see the picture, as if he was recreating thousands of nostalgic moments in his memory, like he wanted to go back in time and do things differently. It seems like...the reality that he lives in the present is hurting him.

Ethan ends up smiling weakly and a deafening sigh comes out to talk.

—She...was someone important to me, you have no idea how much –he answers in a weak voice.

—Was? -I ask stunned- What happened to her?

—Do you remember the nickname by which Laurent called me?

—Of course, Dante! Now that you mention it, I was curious to ask you about it.

Ethan takes a deep breath, looks into the sky from the window, takes a cigarette from his pants and lights it up in his mouth before focusing on my eyes to answer my questions.

—Well, there's a little story about a templar knight named Dante, who came back from a dangerous battle and discovers his fiancée has died and must travel to hell to save her soul from Lucifer's claws. It is said he fought thousands of demons to find her, and although he wasn't so different to them, he didn't care to sell his own soul to the devil, in exchange for his loved one salvation.

Ethan closes his eyes and exhales the smoke of the cigarette; it seems like this kind of therapy is helping him to deal with his emotions and thoughts.

He tries to look for some key in his mind to open the chest of all his distant and painful memories, like opening Pandora's Box.

This new side of him confirms every single one of my beliefs. In this world no one is born evil, it's just the fault of this ironically dehumanized humanity the one that transform them like this.

—So...did she die? -I try to extract a bit more of information, although I admit that I feel kind of troubled about it-In your desperation of finding her, did you become what you are today? -I ask downcast.

—No! She didn't die, she was murdered! Those are two completely different things. And no, it wasn't just for her that I became like this. I chose to transform into an exterminator of human plagues the day I saw my parents die in a massacre that happened in front of my eyes -he bows his look to the floor; his voice begins to crack a little- I was only 8 years old...

—Bu...but why? Was your family involved in this kind of gangster life?

Thousands of questions go around my head.

—No, Kailey. I come from a rich family, and like you, they ran from their roots to have a peaceful life in a new city. In an ironic turn of destiny, we arrived to New York- he emphasizes the last sentence in frustration, and then he continues narrating his story.

»...My mother had some precious emerald green eyes, delighting me every time I saw her. She was a home woman, a dreamer and very enthusiastic. She always told us fantastic stories to make us fly between lines.

»My father, on the contrary, was a man of multiple businesses. He managed and created powerful companies for the nation. Very few times we got to see him at home. Even so, he dedicated to us some weekends to compensate his absences.

»The four of us were the typical, and we could say, exemplary family, that many dream about.

—The four of you?

—Yes! The four. I had a little brother; he was just a two years old baby when that violent scene took place.

—But...what happened to him? -I ask impatiently.