Emissary of Hate

Many years of being a hopeless romantic had made me into the man I was – hopeless indeed, but not a romantic. I had tried my hand at love, and not once did I enjoy the benefits. My love was hardly ever reciprocated, and even when it was, I cannot say that I experienced periods of happiness, except when I finally got married.

Elaine was a godsend of a wife. I met her on my first day of work as my fellow newbie, undergoing training, and it was a marvelous experience. We were both junior staff barely making it through the middleclass life in corporate America, but we started dating two months after we first met. Bowling, Pizza, the Movies- these were stages I never thought I’d get to experience. Feelings I never thought I’d get to experience.

Elaine made me feel like it was okay for me to be happy. Like I deserved love, and she was the one gifted to me by God, or by Aphrodite, or whoever was up there. That benevolent god (or goddess) had finally decided to show me mercy, and allow me to be happy. I was not a religious man, and I did not believe in these myths and legends, but something about this felt…divine.

We were married within a year. Some might have said I was rushing things – actually, some did say I was rushing things, but what did they know? I they took a few steps in my shoes they would have done what I did – and more. I felt that sealing this one was the best option. I had to tie the knot now that the ropes were not frayed, now that I finally had found love.

And that is where the story should have ended. Me finally getting my well-deserved happily ever after. End scene, curtains close, round of applause from the audience, the cast gives a bow. But no. No I had to be called by 7 AM to the city morgue to identify my wife. I had to squint with tears blinding me to try and identify her half-charred face and nod while bawling inconsolably.

You see, Elaine was on her way back home when her taxi collided with a damn FIRE TRUCK and burst into flames. She was killed on impact, and as if that was not enough, 75 percent if her silky smooth skin was covered in 1srt degree burns. There was just enough face left to dispel any doubts I had. To make sure that I came to terms with the reality of the situation.

That I was alone, AGAIN. That I was a fool to even imagine a time when I would ever be happy. That I was a fool for getting committed, and getting too close to the fire, and like Icarus, for flying too close to the sun. And instead of getting the blessing of love for the gods, I got their wrath0filled punishment by having my heart tripped out in the worst possible way.

And maybe that’s just who I was doomed to be in this simulation called life. The character that never has anything going for them. The character made to get the maximum expressions of pity and pain from those watching. The most pathetic one of them all. But I had had just about enough of that life.

It was two days after she was dead. I had received visits and consolations from my parents – and her parents. I didn’t know how to feel while consoling her mother. I didn’t know how to feel while getting consoled and advised by her father. I loaded the 9mm pistol carefully. Quietly. Solemnly. I had just gotten off the phone – my friend calling, telling me to stay strong.

Strong? I was going out now.  

I put the gun in my mouth, pointed at the roof, and closing my eyes, pulled the trigger.

And then the whole world seemed to stop. I felt the shift in the air, and opening my eyes slowly, I saw a man dressed in all black – an immaculate three-piece suit that was undoubtedly enviable, and a sly smirk on his lips.

“Well aren’t you the saddest sack I’ve been opportune to set my eyes upon?” he asked, eyes fixated on me.

“W-who are you?” I asked, pointing the gun towards him frantically.

“Relax, man. I stopped you from killing yourself. We both know that you cannot kill me with that.  That’s why I’m here, to bring you good tidings, depending on how you see my proposal. You will come to know me as your fairy godfather – after we parlay, but for now, you can call me Vitrio, emissary of Kaos, the god of hate.”

“Kaos?” I asked, confused.

“Cupid has his own mirror god, the god of hate. If you can ignore the negative PR the current society has given hate, you will come to understand that love, in itself, is a futile, fruitless venture, laced with sorrow and rarely ever having a productive end. But of course, you know this, since you’re here, brought to this very edge by love itself.”

I rubbed my eyes. This, all of this, had to be a dream.

“This is the most lucid dream you’ve ever had, I’ll tell you that, Jonathan,” he said, calling me by my birth name. Everyone called me Jon. “Even with the pathetic suicidal feelings you’re having, there is a mustard seed of hate. A seed that I can feed with the pain already in your heart, to make you just like me, another Vitrio. The emissary of Kaos, spreading nothing but hate in this world.”

I shuddered. “I’m not interested in doing that.”

“Why? Because everyone else in this sh*thole deserves a happy ending but you? Because you can bear to see yourself fail, but not others?”

His words pierced through the fibres of my soul.

“Love chooses who to grace with its presence, and leaves others in the hell you are currently in. Hate? Hate is universal, It dwells within us, and we try to stifle it. We try to prevent the natural order, to uphold this false feeling that is not equal. And what has that brought you? I was once like you, human, powerless, hopeless. And now I’ve made sure that a good number of people have felt the same way I’m feeling. What about you? Still feel like ending it all, like a pathetic wimp?”

I imagined it for a moment. A world united in the despair I felt. And it was…

Wonderful.

******

THE END