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K ilian... iller

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Written by   20
2 months ago
Topics: English, Writing, Sci-fi, Life, Write, ...

Gloomy times for Kilian, a small human like any other who submits to life and enters it into society. It was not enough all the hell that lived in that cursed prison that many call home.

That word simply disgusted him, just thinking about it turned all his insides. Inside himself he did not know that warmth of arriving at a place where not even the cold of the rain could freeze the hair on his skin, a hot cup perhaps waiting in the kitchen, whose mother prepared him with all her love, and before that, an embrace of eternal and fraternal love from his family.

None of that, it was all part of an illusion that only those with luck could experience. It was not necessary to be someone mature to realize that his life was not at all similar to others and for that reason, just because of that he was the center of the fun, he could still hear the laughter of his companions for the simple fact of not knowing how to speak. Each laugh was a direct blow to his bones, as if his flesh opened by itself and instead of being helped, he just felt how everyone threw their many poisoned daggers of rage and thirst at him.

As much as he tried to be like them, he couldn't. His lips were always sealed in fear of the many fingers pointing at him as his angelic faces turned into demons sating his hunger.

There was nothing he could do, just wake up with the many blows received by the one who spawned him. A woman lying on the ground bloody from feet to neck, whose marks she was from someone strangled but not murdered. And yet she was still obedient to him, and so she knew there was no place to hide.

As the little boy grew up, his fears came true. It hadn't been that long when he was almost an orphan, because his mother was already in a better place, anyone away from that man was the best, so those pills he ingested that night, Kilian understood as a way to save himself, from that Anyway, I don't hold a grudge.

Torn clothes, shattered shoes as literal as his heart that had already turned to stone. There was no mercy before little Kilian who had to submit to the many ordeals that his mother routinely lived in his life, even that man whom he stopped calling "father", became his lover; the disgust he must have felt every time he had to get out of bed and return to his room, it was like eating rotten meat straight from the dump. But nothing to do, something protects the one who always hurts, slips away like a weasel.

10 years later, submerged in the mean life as an exact example of those who were his example to follow. Lacking values ​​and everything that makes someone moral and sensible, he was pointed out but not by fingers alone, among the crowd there were weapons, those smiles had been erased from the faces that persecuted him forever during his life. It didn't matter who they belonged to, but that vague memory came to his mind causing him a pain of pleasure, the good was his bad, his bad had become his good.

It was to be struck down or die by his own hands, but before even thinking about it his body lay on the wet pavement. Those tears were confused with the intermittent spray of rain, the breeze was exactly as cold as the one he felt when he got home and when he left it. The only warm thing he felt in his life for the first time was the running of his blood out of his body.

And long before running out of vitality, just that little moment, little Kilian regretted everything he had done, but above all, he fervently wished in his last second of life to have been saved by someone from that absolute darkness that completely clouded his humanity, one that everyone around him had, but used against him.

In this way, that little victim became the perpetrator of a heinous attack that was marked for history.

News headlines just said his name with a K so big it encompassed his new pseudonym "killer."

Final note from the writer: the recent news of a fateful event in the United States will surely come to mind. As a writer and a person, I always like to see the background of everything, to see beyond everything even if it is a tragic event. While I as a human can also (and do) call the person who did this a monster, I can also call the people who cause others to end up losing their humanity. There are no excuses for the actions committed, but every action has a cause, when we take these causes seriously and attack them at the root, we will realize that everyone at some point could be that monster, you will say no, but really you he doesn't know, just as perhaps he didn't know that his life would end that way, only he knows. It should be noted that this story is totally fictitious, no element is similar to what the news reflects, I just wanted to create a causal grain within the real chaos that exists in the world.

If you think I sympathize with the victimizer, you are sick. I am one more human who mourns those little angels.

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Written by   20
2 months ago
Topics: English, Writing, Sci-fi, Life, Write, ...
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