The First Ira.
An excruciating headache came over me making me frown as the smell of fresh blood roamed the air, I opened my eyes to a dim view, nothing was clear, I blinked several times to let my eyes get used to the darkness, I could see a painting in front of me covered with bloodstains, its smell jogged my memory, and only by shifting, I realized that I was tied to a chair, the rope was loose enough for me to break free. Countless questions ran through my head making my veins throbbing even more. I stood up startled noticing the blood on my hands, my breathing increased while seeing a figure lying still next to the chair, too obscure to tell who it was; way too anxious I rushed trying to find a way out, I couldn’t remember where I was nor who I was as if I have fallen straight into my darkest nightmare. I felt nauseous thinking I was the killer, a question I could not answer, and somehow it seemed more important than knowing my own identity. I sat again in that chair, eyes glued to the familiar portrait of a lady sitting in a chair identical to mine as if it was mimicking me. Undetailed, the black framework was whispering an uncrackable riddle.
FURIOUS, I could not decide what to do, as the feeling of being buried inhabited me, my eyes dared to wander around when a sharp clean blade was on sight, I held it tight in my palms as if my life depended on it, and based on how little I know it might. My vision got blurry, my anger built up inside me, like a bomb with a few ticks left to explode I have not hesitated a second as I rained down stabbing the corpse countless times, my wrath had come to the surface as I lost control over it, denying me from stopping until I was sitting right in the middle of a blood bath, my breathing regained its pace as if nothing had happened. I sat with my head between my knees, and out of nowhere the small space was filled with loud cries, and I got convinced that wrath got the better of me. However, with every death comes a relief. Once again I took the blade and with a cracked voice, I uttered, ” Blessed are those lawless deeds are forgiven, and whose sins are covered; blessed is the man against whom the Lord will not count his sin.“. holding the knife to my throat admiring the portrait of the lady for the last time.
