Love After Death


With hands drenched in blood and the police blasting through our front door, launching shards of glass and splinters everywhere, I instantly regret my actions almost an instant later. In between my body quivering in pain and infinite mutterings of sorry, I can only drop down to my knees with tears swamping my face and cradle you tenderly in my arms. I’m now left hoping with every ounce of my being that you can begin to understand my heinous actions…The world wasn’t ready for the life eclipsing love I had for you. I wasn’t ready. you weren’t ready. What I felt for you in the core of my soul couldn’t be rationalised or understood. It was bigger than me, you, the both of us. And it’s because I loved you that much I couldn’t just allow you to douse my heart with petrol, set it alight and incinerate it, only then to walk out of my life like nothing happened. Yes, it hurt when I plunged this knife into your stomach. But believe me when I say this, what I’m feeling in my heart, what you made me feel is so much worse.

It’s both funny and tragic how one single event or one encounter could change the course of my life forever. Remember on New Year’s Eve two years back, when we were curled up on the sofa watching the film Sliding Doors? I’ll jog your memory. I know how hard it is for you to remember the plot of films – the plot of any film. In the film Gwyneth Paltrow’s life splits dramatically in two as a result of one single event: In one, she catches a train and comes home early to find her boyfriend in bed with another woman. In the second, she misses the train and arrives late after the woman has left, thus never knowing about the infidelity. Does this ring any bells? The film is like looking into a dark and twisted mirror. If only I came home 20 minutes later, things could have been so much more different for the both of us…

I know what I did was bad, but please don’t forget that there was once a point in time when I would have been considered a good person; doing actual good in this world. Sure, I never saved a child from a burning building or donated an organ, but I’ve given to charity and I’ve always treated you with care and respect. There was a point in time when we had degrees in our back pockets and a limitless horizon stretched wide and bright before us. You were going to be an interior designer and I was going to be an accountant. A bloody good accountant. We would’ve had a house far enough from the city to have peace and quiet, but close enough to never feel lonely. Not like I do now. It was going to be beautiful and spacious with an inside pool and small cinema room – extravagant I know, but you know I’ve always wanted to give us what my parents could never afford for me. It would have been a good life because I was once a good person, remember? Remember what I used to be?

Now no one will think I’m a good person. I won’t even be considered a bad person; they will call me much worse – an animal, a murder or even pure evil. Regardless, I don’t care what they think. I only care about what you think. Do you hate me? I hate myself. I can withstand a million days in prison and even the electric chair – I know it’s coming. Yet even the mere thought of you hating me is more painful than any torture. Yes, you cheated on me, in the moment I was angry and overreacted but now you’re forgiven. I know it’s because of me you aren’t alive anymore. But am I really to blame when all I have ever done is love you? Isn’t my only true crime love, loving you too much? I’ll be trapped in an eternity of repentance unless I’m forgiven. Please save me. Can you forgive me? Even in death, can you still love me?


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