In her shoes

Lifeless Existence

I reached for the doorknob as I checked the time. I still have a minute to enter the room. The doorknob was cold to touch. But for some reason, that did not bother me. In fact, it seemed familiar to me. Quite familiar, but I can't figure out what it reminded me of. Or why. It made me wonder, and I was almost pulled back into the dangerous traps of my endless thoughts. But I'm not here to think. I will have plenty of time to do that once I finish my job here. So gathering myself together, I corrected my posture. Stood straight and confident. Kept my chin up. It made me look unapologetic, and that's exactly what I wanted. I kept a neutral face, atleast that's what I call it. Others though, of course behind my back, called it a resting-bitch face. But I've heard worse. And nowadays not even the worst bothers me. I thought of what I wanted to do going inside that room. It was simple. I wanted to crush my opponents into mere dust. Rip them apart in every move they make, so that they won't ever think of competing against me. And how does that thought make me feel? Well, everytime I win, which is all the time, my heart feels full. It is no longer void. Just for a second, it makes me feel like I've accomplished something. But it always lasts only for a second. After that, it hits me. Like a flood of piercing ice swallowing me whole. Like a dagger already in the heart that keeps twisting making the pain worse. All those feelings for one question. A question that keeps popping inside my head everytime I win - 'At what cost?' It is a final, desperate move by my conscience trying to barely stay alive. And everytime, this question hits me hard. Everytime.

What's the use of loosing the battle but winning the war? Am I okay with the cost that I pay? Is there some ulterior motive for my actions? All these enormous questions seem infinitesimal given the audacity of my answer. It is a simple 'Yes'. Yes, I am okay with the cost I pay. Yes, I do have a purpose behind my actions. And to me, that purpose matters the most in the world. So I will do whatever it takes to protect my purpose. And if it means defending the sinners, then so be it.

So with that and only that in mind, I opened the door. The moment I crossed the threshold, my mind started to clear my thoughts. Almost like meditation. With every step, it got clearer and clearer, and my focus shifted to the matter at hand. I sat with the criminals, defending yet another crime that I am sure, even more so than the prosecutors, that my client did commit them. Wait. Now I know why the doorknob felt familiar. Then why the hell am I defending them? It is yet again very simple. Hiding something is difficult. Finding it is more difficult. But proving that what was found was not even hidden in the first place, and that it did not have any type of relevance to anything - that's the most difficult job. Proving the innocence of these notorious and revolting criminals especially in front of the affected, is the most difficult job. Looking at the victims right in the eyes and saying that my client didn't do it, that's the hardest. And with such hard job, comes a reputation. And with such reputation, comes a fortune of income. People pay you more when they do something wrong and are desperate to hide it. Because nobody likes being vulnerable. But every time I defend a criminal, it takes away a piece of me. Yet, I will continue to do it until the moment I finally give up. When my legs lock and I crumple and fall to the ground, when my mind ceases to exist, when my heart is shred to pieces and when my conscience finally resurfaces, I will completely give up. Until then, I will spend every waking moment waiting for that to happen.

Maybe the doorknob is better than me. It is useful to everyone and it is neutral about its purpose. Doesn't stop working just because a bad guy is trying to enter. Always Unbiased. Hmm, who would've thought a lifeless material will be better than me? Actually, I don't want to know the answer to that.

So, do I do it for the money? Pride maybe? Do I have to do it or do I want to? Am I a desperate woman trying to protect the family that she cherishes so close to her heart? Or am I just a conniving bitch who takes pride in what she does? Does it help change the way people see me if they know why I do what I do?

These are the questions that will never be answered. Because it doesn't matter. Because no matter what, the ends don't justify the means. They never do and they never will. So what's the point in knowing these answers? Sympathy? Respect? Mercy? All of these will matter only if a person thinks that they deserve it. So if they don't think so, then there is no need for those answers. Which is why I will say this with the coldest of hearts and sharpest of words: I am not bothered. I never will be. God, I wish I was the doorknob.

What about the consequences? Every action will have them. So will mine. And when these consequences do happen, I will welcome them with open hands, unarmed, and fragile, completely letting my guard down, finally taking the last breath - hoping that it will be my last breath - and waiting for the tear drops to roll down my cheeks as I close my eyes and sink deep into the darkness. Until then, I am counting my days.

**********

HELLO READERS! I KNOW, I KNOW. MY WORKS ARE NOT ALWAYS UNICORNS AND RAINBOWS, BUT THEY DO HAVE THEIR MOMENTS.
I REALLY DON'T KNOW WHY, BUT THIS IS THE FIRST STORY I WANTED TO PUBLISH.
WITH AN AMBIGUOUS ENDING - AS PROMISED - WHAT DO YOU THINK OF HER? DID ANYTHING SHE SAID HAVE ANY IMPACT ON YOU? WAS SHE RELATABLE TO YOU? DO YOU HATE HER? LET ME KNOW THE ANSWERS IN YOUR COMMENTS.

OH, AND ALTHOUGH WE HAD A "DARK" START, I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT MY STORIES ARE A COLLECTION OF FLAVORS. AND TO TALK ABOUT ME: I AM USUALLY A CAUTIOUSLY OPTIMISTIC PERSON. WHAT ABOUT YOU?

VOTE IF YOU LIKE THIS STORY AND I WILL SEE YOU IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. ☺️☺️☺️❤️❤️❤️❤️