The Corruption Inside All of Us

I stood over the limp body laid in front of me like a ghoulish mannequin. Once upon the shade in totality, I found it to be inclined to warmth now more than its outer coldness. Surprised but, nonetheless appreciative. The beating had reached its crescendo now. The air flooded my nostrils, reeking of iron as I looked down and remembered where the smell had come from. Dark red liquid splodge among my palms. My hands dripped down blood but sadly, it was not mine. If only it were, all this could’ve ended up differently. I could still be at home, reading a book or listening to music but alas my fate has been sealed. I am now a murderer.

Previously

The time was late in my world, the first night of Halloween I was spending alone since the incident. On the other side blossomed sunlight and laughter echoing through the rooms. It did not matter what my therapist had advised, I know the ghosts aren’t a part of my imagination. I’m not insane, I keep telling them. I’ve heard them cackle with goblets celebrating in their hands after another successfully burned body but nobody ever listens. Then my brain comes to the hidden dreams, no, memories of different torsos bursting up in flames. The screams and wails coming out always sting my eyes with tears even though they were unknown faces. 

The floor creaks at my every movement, it was bad enough it was mandatory to have my heavy breaths. For months, I lost sleep because of those selfish bastards and I was fed up with it! I could feel the tension as I got closer and closer to the alternate universe. A white figure zoomed past me at an attempt to scare me away but my fury overpowered my fight. I fought my body’s denies and pushed myself through it. 

Before my eyes, I feast upon an image that seems to belong in an history art museum, but this was real, they were real. My eyes scurried around, searching for any recognition but it’s like they didn’t care at all of me. Servants or more like slaves, were scattered around the room. 

The light shone from the chandelier, blinding my eyes. It was impossible to set my sight on anything but somehow, it had come so easily for my focus to turn to her. The face that flashes in my nightmares after every torture, each end of her mouth reaching up to her widened, venomous eyes. 

She looked so familiar with her white pale face and her slick black hair but it wasn’t like it was in the tip of my tongue, it was more in my head then shot down to my stomach after my false hope, gurgling in my intestines. My determination of getting back my love for sleep willed my legs to stomp through the crowd confidently. Not like anyone noticed, I thought. She was sat on a high throne, perfectly framing her arrogance. Her expressionless face did not falter as I shoved guards out of my way to get a good look at her. “Yes?” she answered calmly. My frenzy was still there, not fading anytime soon. 

Normally, many questions fill my head when encountering these situations but all I could peep out were two simple words. “Stop it.” my word slapping her with spite. She smiled softly to me like the ice cold queen she is and gripped my wrist to drag me down an empty hallway. Her pull became more vicious as we went further away from the party. I fought her, pulling her hair but she was like a robot being unbothered. “HEY, where are you taking me?! I just wanted you to stop the vicious kills, oh, and maybe answer why do you even do it?!” I shrieked, my anger rising, about to explode. 

We arrived at a door leading to a woods as she flicked me outside while she stayed in. “I see you’re a woman of religion,” she stated. Confusion only came with no answers to ease it. I repeated the words that slithered out of her tongue until the realization dawned on me. It struck me like a knife to my chest. She is Queen Mary I, the cruel, merciless tyrant. My history lessons filled my head, understanding why she had said what she said. But why even hate people of religion in the first place? I wanted to ask her but I couldn't after finding out her history. In response to my silence, she scowled at me and slammed the door. The sound of the bang left floating in the cold, ghastly, thick air. 

The darkness engulfing me yet only allowing a faint light on a single man. But not any man, he’s the man that radiates hatred to me with no reason. The man that made my days worth ending. The man that, even though I have done nothing to, promised to never end my suffering. Because that man is my bully but might as well be my killer after my suicide attempt caused by him. He stood there losing his usual threatening composure, instead sad almost grieving, it seems. You can’t expect sympathy from me, you devil! 

This was probably the wrong way to go but the sword that clanked as I kicked it was like a toxin, pulling me towards it with no way out. It was like a drug to me, unable to stop it, I would like to say. The distance between me and him shortened, as his fear in his eyes caused me even more doubt but something happened that day. Like a switch has been clicked on hysterically. Pieces of hair covered my vision as I took my final step and then finally….I swung. 

I had come there because I wanted to know the answer to the infamous question of why she enjoys searing her citizens so much, but the meeting has only left me with more questions. The head rolled upon my feet. Only one question mattered now and it is about me. It was hard to admit but some urge forced me to whisper it out. “Why do I enjoy killing people?” 

We all are as corrupt as each other but we judge people thinking we are better, when we are actually just the same in different ways.