Innocent

A lusty thump erupted through the inclement air as his lifeless corpse tumbled down the marble-clad ground. At last, I killed him. The guilt you ask, why am I to feel such sentiment? I can divulge my excursions; that’s more than one does these days. And surprisingly, propelling that stake through his abdomen felt rather good. See, I was remorseful enough not to shove it through his heart. As a matter of fact, he should be thanking me right now. After all, I did do him a favour. I’m not wicked, and who’s to say I didn’t eviscerate this world of a serial killer. It is not like I had malice in me; it was for the greater good. I’m innocent. Albeit I murder- no! I discarded, obliterated, banished, annihilated, but I did not murder. I’m not a murderer. I’ve never been more sinless, trust me. I killed the man; I did not murder him. The difference is manifested: bad people murder, helpless people kill. I was helpless. I could not bear to see his face anymore, especially that smile, oh that villainous, haunting smile. So I killed him; I did not murder. I committed the act out of sheer helplessness at best.

With substantial strive, I cleaned off his carmine-stained blood. The air filled with a rustic stench. What a nuisance this man was. You may think that with the obliteration of his existence, some of his vexatious ambience may wear off, but no his legacy lives on. I can assure you that if you ever had the ill-fated pleasure of meeting this man, you too would kill him. Certainly, you would resort to the brutalist of all measures. So why shall I be the one to reap the consequences of his death. I am as innocent as you are in this narrative. And for him, this was long coming. There’s no need to feel sorry for him; if anything, I’m the victim here.

I threw the bloodied rag out the open window. The windows are open? No, the windows can’t be open! His body is still here rotting down my entire apartment, and you’re telling me the windows have been open for everyone to see! Now they’re going to think I’m guilty of murdering him. I can’t possibly get rid of the body now.

It’s ok. It’s fine. You and I both know that I did nothing wrong. Let them come. I welcome them. I am not guilty, and they too shall realise, just like you did. So I drop everything; I grab a chair and take a seat. I’ll wait, I'll even wait them out if I have to; the innocent always does.