The Bad

                                THE BAD                       

 

I have to. I can’t control myself. The way he is laughing, it irks me. It irks me a lot. Happiness was something I was starved of right from the beginning.  From what I have read online, being happy meant being content. Satisfied.  Feeling that everything’s alright in the world. I am not familiar with that feeling. Have always wondered what it felt like to be happy.

When I was twenty, self-diagnosis confirmed what I had been suspecting since twelve. Due to some medical condition, I couldn’t feel “happiness”. Couldn’t be joyful. I spent my whole childhood perplexed as to why the other kids would laugh. Why they would smile. The world had always been dull and grey to me.

Now, at 28, all the feelings deep inside, trapped since the last fifteen years, had turned to pure hatred. Something I would go as far as calling ‘evil’.  Yes, I am quite aware of myself. My soul. Who I really am. I am a monster. I don’t try to convince myself that I am normal. I am not. My lack of happiness proves it. Even more solid proof are the three dead bodies, buried over different areas of Western Mumbai. 

Right now, sitting in a popular café in Bandra, sipping bad coffee, I am looking at the guy who may very well be my fourth kill. Tall, dark, pearly white teeth that shine when he laughs…..Not a bad choice. Not a bad choice at all. When I pondered over my third kill (which was two months ago) I realized that maybe he wasn’t much happy after all.  Not worth of being jealous of. I didn’t need to kill him just because he felt happiness and I didn’t.

Well, don’t get me wrong, I like killing people who get to experience happiness and I don’t. So that includes the whole world. Almost. But I can’t go on killing every single person, can I? I am not that crazy. So what I do is just observe people. Find out who seems to be really, really happy. Then I target all my hatred toward him/her. That’s how I find my next target. Always.  But as I said, I am not big fan of my third kill. He wasn’t that happy.  His girlfriend had left him, his job was s**t, and he was nearing fifty years of age. Old age doesn’t seem pretty glorious to me.

I will have to observe more carefully. The last one was a mistake on my part. But now as I am looking at this tall dude, enjoying his evening out with his friends, I am becoming more and more confident. THIS IS THE NEXT ONE.

So, I have to. I can’t help it. My hatred won’t let me live if I don’t kill them happy people.

As I finish the last sip of my coffee, he gets up and does the usual goodbyes with his friends.  I can’t lose sight of him. I will observe. And observe.  And nothing will make me happier than when I confirm that he’s my fourth kill.

Oops. My bad. I can’t feel happiness. Almost fooled myself with that one.

Time to follow. Time to decide.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A very good opening chapter. You have create interesting character and good story line. I wanted to read more. Very good use of description. You made the reader believe and understood. Thank you for sharing the amazing chapter.
Coyote