The thinking Killer

In the Mirror

He fell down on his Knees. The rain is soaking him completely and in it his tears are invisible. He can't stop thinking about screaming as loud as possible. But something held him, something he called sanity. 'Where is my Sanity?' he questioned himself. 

'I am not a Killer,' he said to himself. 'Am I?' he asked. 'Who is this Man who walked naked and disappeared?' he questioned. He pulled himself up on his feet, standing by leaning on his hands which he threw on the wall of the bridge. Watching the water streams, he remembered how Natasha was rolled down along the Stream. He couldn't find her in the vicinity of his site, but his thoughts are keeping her just before his eyes. 

'People do mistakes,' he said to himself, taking a deep breath. 'Yes. We, humans, become sane by being insane.' He tightened his fist and took a very deep breath, feeling the expansion of his lungs. 

He turned to the right, remembering that this way leads to his village. But then he also turned to left patiently, thinking, this way leads to the woods. But then he realized, whatever is before him will lead to what could be justice. A justice his friend once said, "An Eye for an eye is the best thing one should remember being an adult."

He argued it is not the period for 'An eye for an eye' but the period of, he was unable to express it. That time, his friend won, but this time, it is between the idea of his friend and himself he is battling. He thought if he chooses right, he should and shall do things he regrets. If he chooses left, he has no idea who the person he becomes or should become anymore. If he chooses straight, everything just ends. 

His love for Natasha for which he always thinks, the image of smiling along with her is the prime symbol of their love. His anger on the person she loves, forgetting him is the only justice he could deserve as the cost of his love. And the moment he punched Natasha off the bridge, stepping ahead is the only right thing he can do as the one who loves her, indefinitely. These thoughts all begin flashing one after other as the shapeless entities within him. 

"Maclin," John Simoff, father of Natasha Simoff, called him from behind. 

He turned back and didn't identify he is John Simoff in the rain and watching him with a Black Hat but noticed he is one of the elder men he respects and knows.

"What are you doing? That too standing over that wall in this heavy rain, all alone?" he asked. 

All his thoughts flew off like dreams do when someone woke up. 

"Get in," he said, by opening the door of his horse carriage.

"Let me sit beside you. I am so wet," he said. 

"Alright," the Man said, observing Maclin's eyes. 

The Man started the Carriage into the village. As they passed a few streets, the man asked, "What happened Maclin?"

"I was just thinking," he answered, fixing his eyes on the Houses they are passing by. The Houses are afar to each other and the way is very curvy and full of turnings. The noise of raindrops hitting and horses running are echoing in his ears more clearly than usual. And the darkness around him along with the tears made it hard for him to see things around.  

"About?" The Man asked.

"What to do to forget someone forever?" Maclin asked.

"It depends on who they are."

"Let's say, someone, we love so much."

"Then it depends on why we want to forget them."

"Let's say, we have known that they can't be in our lives anymore."