The Uncanny Job Of Vengeance

By Sehaj Sidhu

It was nearly midnight when my nightmares began. The breeze picked up, whistling like the melancholy voice that belonged to her. My therapist had told me I would cease to see her, that she would turn into another figure lost in the incessant night. Another soul going home.

I awoke an hour later, tears twirling down my face. Lies. Deceitful white lies.

The truth stung like the prick of a scorpion. It hurt as much as a messy betrayal. It made me crumble down to my knees, and scream for salvation. For closure. The moonlight shone on my skin, as a familiar whisper made my hair rise.

It was the voice. The one in my brain. The one that told me to seek vengeance for her. I tried to argue.

(The visitors stared at my stoic face, as I recited this story for the umpteenth time. The judge had called this a fable, a fragment of my imagination.)

The world was never fair, especially to young girls like me. The ones who still believed in the goodness of people, those who stayed up at night waiting for Santa Claus. But he would never arrive, and we would stare at the chimney; realizing that disappointment was inevitable. That fairness and mercy were mere stories spoon fed to children, shielding them from the cruel world that lurked nearby.

(I saw all of them write down points, intending to hear me further. The guards at the side simply frowned, a few of them even laughed.)

It was then that I caved and gave in. I could feel a tug of happiness for the first time. The arcane desire that I withheld soon flew into the air, further and further. And like a little girl, I gave chase. As I fled, she clutched my hand. I let myself feel something other than numbness. Blinding hope- my therapist would explain to me later.

I seeked them out, one by one. Patience climbed onto my shoulder, guiding me to wait. Anger stood on the other, the molten fury bubbling inside as I caught a glimpse of the human figure. The one who seized everything from me.

(The scratching of pens was the only sound that reached my ears. One of the guards gave me a warning. As the curious eyes met mine, I continued.)

It was easy to slip into his house. Even easier to get the work done. Later they asked me if I showed any remorse. It could’ve been simple to lie, but I didn’t. Any remorse was shattered as I saw her twist her lips upward, to form a semblance of a smile.

The bloodied knife was to be put to other use. I had another job to do. Nowadays, people ask me if it was really a job. I want them to know, it was an unfortunate one. They simply started it, with their monstrous hands and poisonous minds. My responsibility was to end it.

(At this a few of the people looked up towards me, as if seeing me for the first time. The others that were a bit afar, snorted. I paid no attention)

I felt myself being guided to the next. The ending. The one I had to slay for this to be over. I had yet to register my actions, being blindsided by fury. The blood in my veins quickened, as my fists clenched.

I let myself feel this time. The more tears fell, the more I took. It was only fair, only fair to harm when they had harmed me in such a manner. As the breaths faltered and gave out, I found my peace. The angels in the sky simply gazed down. My nimble legs gave out as I sat down on the floor.

( Absolute silence greeted me. I should have cared about how I looked and sounded. However, such trivial details didn’t matter to me. It was nearly the end.)

A hand found mine and in the darkness, everything fell down. The blinding rage, the tears. I couldn’t react. All I could do was stare. Stare at my little sister who finally got up and left. Who climbed towards the stars into her home.

Even as the police cuffed me, and tried me; I spoke without a care. The men who hurt her were dead. Their carcasses rotting in hell. It should have been unsettling and uncanny. To me, this was the only thing that made sense.

(As I finished my story, a little girl in the crowd smiled at me. Her black hair in braids, matching mine. Thousands of questions arose. Was it right of you to kill those men because they killed your little sister? What will you tell their families? Do you want to be on death row?)

(I simply stared into the air, breathing freely. The weight of death pressed onto my side, as I let myself smile. As I closed my eyes, my sister held my hand. And together we walked past the stars, towards our home.)

By Sehaj Sidhu