The Vicious cycle

" Kill her" , I said. My voice was errily calm.

"What? What have you got yourself into?" he asked, visibly shocked.

I was not the same man he grew up with.

Those murky days of the childhood flashed and faded in front my eyes, like the evanescene of the morning mist.

"You loved her" exclaimed, the only friend I ever had.

"I love her" I corrected him.

"Jesus, what is wrong with you?" he bellowed.

I remembered all those days of horror-I was a child, a ruthless orphan, a scumbag drug dealer who thrived on the weakness of the poor. I remembered the days on the street that involved drug peddling, drug abuse and the nightmares that haunted me; The days I moved from one resettlement colony to another until the day when I could no longer walk- with blood dribbling down my thighs, with seething pain in my rear. I was raped. I remembered the qualmish scream I let out when I saw the soil that turned dark with my blood. I remembered the way the father of some church had picked me up, nursed me and made me the man I am today. I'm a doctor who met the love of my life during my college days, just like many others. That story could wait. I was a man who killed the demons that dwelled in my patients minds but not the one in mine.

The last memory of the man who brought me up was still clear in my head.

Will you keep the promise, my child?" The church father had asked me years ago. He was the only father I ever knew.

"Anything for you, father" I had promised. It had been the biggest mistake of my life, until today

"I want you to help those who need it. These slums have dozens of kids like you" he asked.

I still remembered the eyes that pleaded for something he never needed.

"There is no hope for these kids, father" I scrupled, to avoid making a promise I could never keep.

"Never say that my child. Hope, honor, justice and faith are incorruptible. What if I had felt the same when I saw you?" he asked. I held his gaze and then looked away.

"There is a balance between the good and evil. Always. Evil seems like an immovable boulder on a weighing balance but there is always someone adding a small pebble on the other side and someday the balance shifts" he told me. I wasn't convinced but I made a promise that day.

The path I had chosen might not be a great one, but I was on the verge of achieving what i had promised to the father.

"Sir, it's time" announced my personal secretary.

"Think again" pleaded my friend.

I looked away and put on my sun glasses and walked out. I was too scared he would see the facade faltering in my eyes. As the doors opened, the crowds swarmed to have a glimpse of their new symbol of hope, their new chief minister. As I waved my hand, a heavy hand patted my shoulder- my friend’s hand. I looked at him. He just nodded. She was killed, with a single swift shot to her head. The chief editor of the biggest newspaper of this nation was gone. Just like that. I noticed the look on my friend's face- a gut wrenching look of disgust as he looked at me. I couldn’t look at him, my vision was blurred and the memories of the smartest journalist who had the evidence of the inevitable murder I had to commit was buzzing in my head, like a colorful painting on a grey canvas. It was exactly at that precise moment I couldn’t see the people chanting my name, in reverie. My moist eyes were betraying me. I had to shut her out and remove her from the realms of my memory. God! I miss her. cariño- my love, as I always called her.

I killed the old man, the founder of my political party whose old idealogies stood in my way. People get bored with honesty. They needed sensation. I gave them exactly that and hope too. I conspired against him. I killed him because I would be the next one to take over.

In my last moments, the only memory of that smiling woman who embraced my darkness would be the look of horror on her face when she saw me strangling the old man with my bare hands.

I contained her. Until recently- She had left me. She was a true journalist above everything. But I had made a promise to the father-My father, who gave me a life. I had to choose him. I would never forget the smile, the last one on his lips as I made the promise. I had my doubts. I thought I was a sinner until the day I had won the election. I had betrayed my own mentor, the woman of my life but I would never betray the hope I created in my people. My father was wrong. Nobody adds any pebbles. The fittest survive. I am going to triumph, not just survive.

As I turned towards them, I had a sharp pain on my left shoulder. I saw blood oozing out of my left shoulder and panic bean to rise like a tide on a full moon day. The familiar feeling of nausea gripped me and I was shot again- this time in my stomach. The guards were late, only by a fraction of a second. I was shot the third time and I was no longer sure where. My killer might have his own story but I guess I don’t have the time to know him or the story.
My friend held me. There were cries from the people, their hopes were being shattered. Then there was a roar. My friend was crying but I wasn’t. I was laughing. It was a moment of epiphany for me. My father was right. Evil never triumphs.

“Make me a promise, my friend” I begged my friend.

He was hollering. He couldn’t see his only friend dying like a dog.

“Promise me you will never disappoint these people” I held his hand and I could sense my voice. It was the sound of my life slipping away.

And yes, I was wrong about one more thing. In my last moments, the memory of the woman of my life was that of her beautiful smile but not the horror on her face.

Sorry cariño, my love” I said to no one in particular and closed my eyes.