A story of love, deception, destruction and betrayal awaits her. Oblivious to the cruelty that the life is going to show her, she drives down to a party. By the time she comes back home, the air had changed, and her life was about to change next.
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ALEKSANDER
Human mind is obtuse. And it is prideful. People often fallaciously believe they have control over their lives and that they are the masters of their own fates. They take steps and move in directions absurdly confident about the destination of the chosen path. And while the life humors them for a little while, it is quite amusing to look in the scintillating eyes slowly draining, going dull, going mute.
My fighting trainings started very early on in my life, well before any conscious thoughts formed. I used to like it at first, used to believe it to be normal. oh, but that was not it. The idea of being powerful, to be able to hold my own, was euphoric. I had seen what years of training could give, and I wanted to exude that air too. But mama was a small and petite woman, and she used to preach the backhanded morals like a goddamned gospel in my ears. Nevertheless, how very ironic! She was also that one to preach about fate, and the fucking thing chasing.
One day mama died, but the morals did not die with her. Now that euphoric air suffocated me, despite that I kept training. I kept returning to that ring, kept getting beaten until my opponent tired and then kept on hitting until I couldn't. It was not about the high anymore, that was my respite now. Be that as it may, the morals did not die. I never let myself be satisfied in that destruction. I induced myself with the thoughts of getting away, and conjured a castle in the air then.
When I was 13 years old, somehow I managed to land myself in an underground fight with the vicious of beasts. I do not remember every sound of the bones cracking, it was all very meteoric. My face was pummeled, eyelids bulging out half-shut, and lungs shrinking I struggled. I was tightening my hold on his hands, digging my nails on his arms while his fingers wrapped my throat, slowly dispelling the life out of me. Time slowed in those few seconds and I wondered if I should succumb, but then that castle. I wanted to see that castle.
And So I did what I did, I poked my finger in his eyes instead and bit his arm as his chokehold faltered, digging my teeth until I tasted blood, causing the man to stumble back, disorientated. The air rushed back in my lungs and I frantically looked for a weapon. While the man composed, I snatched a knife from fuck knows who and jammed it straight to his throat. The tip puncturing him was a weird thing, it was not smooth at all. As the knife punctured his flesh, it did not go all the way, with his wind pipe just a bit punctured. And I had to put all my strength for another push until it almost touched a bone, all the while his blood flowed heavily on my fist enclosed around the knife.
He coughed on my face, his spatters fell all over me and I exhaled heavily, my teeth clenched and focused on his glazing lost eyes. My shoulders slumped and an uncanny lightheadedness took over for a second while my frown settled as I twisted the knife in his throat. I registered an unbelievable calm and that's when my resolve hardened. I had to leave.
My predilection to have control over my life failed me miserably over the years though, rendering all my purposes worthless, palliating my affliction. And so in front of that door, it was time for me to give up; to abandon the castles in the air, the one with invigorating windy foyer, exquisite high ceilings and no gates. This was the time to close the fist around my shackles, swing it and annihilate. It was time for me now, to stop the absconding. It was time to let that demon take over and go downstream. This was the time to strangulate those already dissipating morals.
