I had no choice but to kill him.
I had no choice but to kill him.
What does it take to kill someone? To kill them with your own hands. Knowing you rewrote someone’s fate, and they weren’t destined to die today. What does it take to accept that when people die, they leave a void in the lives of those who remain? What does it take to watch life fade away? To hear the heartbeat fade into oblivion. What does it take to kill someone?
In the eerie silence of the cold December night, I felt restless. I was troubled by the idea of taking someone’s life. My mind was clouded by a storm of uneasy thoughts, and I could feel the tension in the air. The lone lightbulb in the room flickered furiously, as if it was trying to jolt me awake. It blew out with a buzzing sound and went completely dark. I got out of bed and flung open the window. The lightbulb on the verandah remained lit. It appeared to be oblivious to what was going on inside me. The chilly wind blowing through the window tried to calm me down, as if telling me I had little choice but to do it. I had no choice but to kill him. I squeezed my eyes shut and wrapped myself in the blanket, hoping it was just a nightmare. But I knew it wasn’t the case.
I got out of bed earlier than usual. It must have been raining for a long time since our roof started dripping. I peered out the window, looking for Tara. Tara is my wife’s name. We married in our native village three years ago. I fell in love with her the first time I saw her. I never imagined myself marrying someone like Tara. She could read English, talk about the moon and stars, cook the most delectable meal, and look at me like no one ever did. We got along well and were happy in our little world. We took out a small loan after our marriage to start a ration shop. But fate had other ideas. Last year, torrential rains flooded our entire neighbourhood, destroying our shop. We lost everything. Tara never gave up hope, despite my heartbreak. She began doing odd jobs around the neighbourhood. When Tara would go out and do these odd jobs, my heart would ache. But we had a house to keep running, stomachs to feed, and loans to pay back. I called out to Tara, but there was no answer. I yearned for her. Perhaps she would have gone to buy vegetables. Or milk. What if I’m nowhere to be found when she returns? What if I get hit by a careless driver while out today? Will she marry again and move on with her life? Or will she miss me as much as I miss her right now?
Suddenly, there was a loud thud. It appeared that lightning had struck somewhere nearby. It jolted me back to the present. I had to leave. I’ve been anticipating this day for over two weeks. All the planning and preparation for this day did not prove to be helpful. Today is the day I will murder him. I packed my clothes for the night because I wasn’t going to sleep at home today. I rushed out without waiting for Tara to return, because I wasn’t sure what I’d say to Tara if she asked why was I so lost.
We had decided on the time and location of the execution two weeks before. It was supposed to happen today in the evening when it got dark. But before I could go over there, I desired to go somewhere else. For some strange reason, I decided to pay him a visit under the guise of a salesman or something. I was inquisitive to see who else was in his family. I’m not sure why I was doing this. This was not required, and it was not part of the plan. But I felt compelled to learn more about his family. I needed to know what this loss meant to them. Will his family be able to move on? Would they be able to manage on their own once he was gone?
I eventually made it outside his house and tried to summon the courage to ring the doorbell. I could hear the faint sound of an elderly lady coming from the house. She’s got to be his mother. And someone was walking around in shoes that made an irritating squeaky sound. Was he a married man? Did he have any children? I wasn’t sure if it was his son or daughter. My heart began pounding against my chest, as if it were just about to explode. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, sweating on a cold winter’s day. I returned my focus. What on earth was I thinking? I had no right to be there. What would I say if her mother opened the door? What if his son or daughter comes out when the door is opened? What would I do in this situation? And, most importantly, why did I care? What difference did it make to me if he had a family? I should be concerned about my family. That’s all there is to it. It was unavoidable. I had no choice but to kill him.
Something weighed on my mind, the guilt of what I had agreed to do. I’d never killed a fly before, and now I was about to kill a human being. I was afraid it would permanently alter something within me. And I wondered if Tara could still look at me the way she always did if she knew what was going to happen. I don’t think I have much of a choice. I would never have agreed to take another person’s life.
Still struggling with my thoughts, I boarded a bus bound for the Arthur Jail road. I’ve been looking for a stable job for months, but all of my efforts have been in vain. So, three months ago, when I managed to buy my way into a job as an executioner at the Arthur Jail, I took it without hesitation. They brought a man to Arthur Jail for execution about a month ago. For three years, he had been on death row. Around the same time that I married Tara. I’d put an end to his life in a matter of hours. Perhaps someday, Tara will understand that I had no choice but to kill him.
