"The conscience is a wound that never heals and no balm can ease its pain. You can run from the law, deceive the world, and silence the voices of others, but the voice within—that merciless whisper of truth—echoes louder with every breath. There is no punishment greater than the knowledge of the wrong you have done, no prison tighter than the guilt you carry. And when your sins are dressed in the blood of the innocent, even redemption begins to look away."
— Unknown
"jacobi ? Jacobi that was just talking to us inside?" Yusuf exclaims. "How is that even possible?"
Jacobi puts up no resistance as the police bundle him into their van, and there are more shouts of disbelief as the car drives off.
Nobody can believe that the mild-mannered doctor is the one who has committed such a horrible crime, the vicious killer on the loose.
"I said it, but you all thought I was crazy," comes Ibrahim's voice, as he emerges from the crowd. "I said it was that doctor, but nobody wanted to listen. Did I not say it? He hid the knife where he and his girlfriend have their secret meetings and was obviously trying to dispose of it."
"It's not true! That doctor can not hurt a fly!" madam maria shouts, the first time anyone has heard her voice all week. "The person that kept it there knows himself. Somebody is trying to set the man up!"
"If he didn't keep it, how did he know it was there?" came another voice.
As they are all arguing, I can feel kamsir's eyes on me, but he says nothing.
Wordlessly, I walk away, my feet heavy as I approach the house.
As I ascend the stairs, I am hit by flashbacks, vivid flashbacks of a struggle, of someone holding me by the wrists, of the object I have in my hands piercing deep into my palm, of me wrestling my hands free…and of me striking back.
The last one makes me stop dead in my tracks.
Of me striking back with the knife in my hand.
I remember a cry of anguish, I remember another voice shouting, I remember running. And then nothing. I remember nothing after that.
But what I have remembered is enough for me.
I killed the minister. And now, Jacobi is going to take the fall for me.
I get to my room and undress right there at the door.
I walk to the bathroom and get into the tub, turning on the tap.
I am nothing but an evil wind, taking down innocent men in my path.
I have been responsible for the death of two men
now, and destroyed the lives of another two.
As the tub fills, I sink in further, submerging myself inside it.
the world around me begins to blur, and the pain in my chest is a constant reminder of everything I've done. But it's not the pain that keeps me here—it's the memory. That damned memory that never lets me go.
I see her face, so clear, like she's right here beside me. My mother. Her hands, warm and soft, held me close as a child. I remember her scent—jasmine, always jasmine. It was the scent of safety, of love, of everything good in the world. She used to whisper to me, her voice gentle, full of warmth, "I'll always protect you, my darling."
But I remember the day that promise shattered.
I don't deserve to live.