The Tragedy of Evil

Prologue: Today

I suppose people never think when they talk. It's easy to condemn someone - especially if people around you like to chatter. And if you look closely, everyone really likes to chatter. You can walk through the hallways of the school, stand on the market or just sit quietly on a bench somewhere. People will always chatter. Maybe that is what makes them so much worse than any predator we ever learn about in biology. See, in nature, a predator just follows his prey and finishes it off, nice and easy. They don't let anyone suffer.

Which is, what makes us humans so different. Humans don't care about other people's pain. They want blood and they'd do anything to get it - even though they mostly don't realise it. But that's why they talk. That's why they don't even want to try to getting to know the person they're so easily talking about. Talking him to the ground. We don't care, no we just talk until we finally see the blood and the fightings.

What follows is what makes us so shocked about things. Because what follows are masks. Everyone wears them to hide his monster. Once they don't, they are doomed. And then people don't even understand anymore. They see the atrocity and forget that it's what they've forged in the fires of their hatred and their bloodlust.

It's what follows, that really makes us close our eyes to our inner monsters.

Luke put up his coats collar against the icy wind, biting his cheeks and freezing the tears underneath his eyelids. They were cold tears, anyway. Emotionless. Luke had lost the ability to cry a long time ago. In fact, he didn't even quite remember the time when everything still had been ... simple.

Easier.

For him and anyone around him.

Before, it had just been him, his Mum and his Dad. Admittedly, their relationship hadn't been exactly the best either, but at least no one else got caught up with it. They always had had their own way of working things out.

Luke took a deep breath and shoved his hands in the pockets of his dark grey trenchcoat. It wasn't exactly made for this weather, but he didn't mind. The cold didn't really bother him but it would be uncomfortable to have his fingers frozen black at the time he'd get to his destination.

He would need full use of his fingers. Well, not all of 'em. But he'd need his left hand to complete the task that would finally set him free. To get his revenge and maybe ... just maybe, bring some joy back in his life.

He could feel the cold metal of the gun in his pocket and closed his fingers around it. He needed to keep it warm so it would definitely do the job.

He couldn't miss. Not this time, he'd make sure of it. He'd make sure that his task would be fulfilled.

Luke almost stumbled in surprise when he stepped on the street and got brushed by the warm wind of the car driving by just in front of him. The gust of wind made him trip and he fell to the ground, immediately shooting out his left hand to catch his fall.

It hurt but on the other hand, he could barely feel it. He couldn't feel anything. Not a tiny bit of emotion. Just ... some absurd and cruel kind of curiosity.

What would it feel like?

He couldn't imagine it feeling bad. Not after all this time, not after everything that had happened. It wouldn't feel bad, he wouldn't feel any remorse. Couldn't - he would not allow himself to.

But would he believe what he'd done? He'd planned it all along, carefully, and had already taken all precautions. He knew where he would get rid of the evidence and he had already bought a ticket for a train that headed to Mississippi. He'd be able to disappear there.

He wouldn't feel sad, would he? No, not after everything. Would he feel thrilled, excited, that finally, all of it was over?

But more importantly, would he finally be happy? Could he ever be happy again? Would he be able to smile after all this? Would he be able to get a good night's sleep?