The damaged

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the actual name of a person, place or incident is based on the author's wild imagination and is purely coincidental. 

 FICTION: The Damaged

Motivation? A drive for those who want to achieve something and a word poisonous to the one that is hurting. In my entire existence I never once thought it would be the latter. I was doing well with my wife, we were happy with our two kids and our unborn child who was scheduled to be born two days before an incident happened.

Here’s the story of the damaged, hurt and motivated to take revenge.

As the thunder strikes in the darkest night the tension building up his heart intensifies. No man could easily forgive, he thought, if he loses all, his only console is revenge. The man was sitting on the table near his window, staring too far, looking at the opposite house about 2 meters away from where he was living and renting for three months now. No unusual movement. The alley is emptied, besides the rain and thunder you can also hear the noises on the other side of the compound created by the people gambling in the middle of the night. Tough night again, as he pours the empty glass of Bacardi, for five times now as if it tastes like nothing as it has been his companion for the past months. Staring at the emptied glass while he dropped it on the table, light reflected through his eyes, he was reminded of his beautiful wife and the laughter of his kids, and no matter how he stopped himself, teardrops began to escape. He immediately wiped them off using the back of his left hand. He shook his head in an abrupt manner, realizing he cannot avoid thoughts as such. He tilt his head facing to the window, his right arm as a support when suddenly he saw a movement of shadows before the door shuts, on the house he has been eyeing for two weeks now.

'It’s now or never' he thought and started to prepare himself. He walked through the built-in cabinet near his bed. Put on his black jacket and gloves covering all his skin, underneath is his black rugged t-shirt, he wore the last time he saw his family. He put a heavy gun with its own pocket on the side of his leather pants. Following the knives on his left legs where there is a knives’ holder. And finally tying his leather boots. He has been waiting for this moment to come. Those sleepless nights where he wanted to just kill himself, were over. He'll finally fulfill his promises for his family. He took a last glance at himself in the cabinet's built-in mirror. The upper part of his right eye shows the evident scars he got from the incident. Gone is the man with a positive faith, the walking humorous gentleman, all over his face displays a fiercely demonic hope for vengeance.

As the lightning continuously throws its rage, a small light reflects through the platinum lock chain around his neck bearing the load of a ring as a pendant. His wife's wedding ring. He slowly put his fingers into it, holding it and caressing it, moving it up to the tip of his lips and kissing it. 'You have no time for this!' His thought was interrupted. He blocked the longing of misery and harshly lost the necklace from his hold.

He walks out at the back door at a slow pace not minding the heavy and continuous pouring of the rain. Slow pace. Running. He has been looking and visualizing this since he saw this narrow alley. It wasn't hard nor was an easy trek. A few more minutes and he was at the back of the house, near the window.

He heard cries. And more cries and cries. Of more begs. And wishes.

He got his gun out, held it with his right hand leveled through his face and he glanced inside. Despite the fact that the house is huge on the outside, it was far different from the interiors. He saw a single candle on the table near the bed. He saw not just one kid but more of them, the kids that sell sampaguitas on the entrance road, the one that sells cigarettes during traffic, the one who doesn't wear slippers, the one who sells newspapers and candies, and the one just sitting because of a condition. They are all over down the bed crowding the bed, their toes pointed on the floor.

And in the bed there lies the man I am looking for...

Thank you for reading this far. This is just a random series. I am trying to learn. Hehe. Sorry for my unimaginable input.