“So… Do you confess that you are a murderer?”
To be honest, the question hit me hard. To be exact, not the question – because I knew what I’ve done – but the fact that they didn’t ask Lorelai the same. She was my victim, but she did almost the same thing I did.
She was the one and only person in my life. Others would say that we were ’best friends’, but Lorelai was my parents, my siblings, my neighbours, and also my enemies.
Until one point, everything was fine. We had an almost perfect relationship, but after one time that I was late for our meeting, and got angry when she asked me why, it changed. Until that, I was showing her my flawless self, the side of me she liked.
She started to isolate me not from people – because I haven’t had anyone since she appeared in my life – but from the world. She believed that she wasn’t important to me, and did everything to reach the opposite; she stayed with me continuously.
And with this, she became unimportant, unvaluable. I didn’t miss her anymore. The missing was missing from our relationship.
Once I got fed up with being with her 24/7, and murdered her.
I didn’t realize that we were soulmates, and as I killed her, her death killed me.
While I killed some body, she killed somebody.
We are some-bodies. We are both dead.
“Did you ask her this question?” My words made the small room even colder than it was; I felt like I was buried in Antarctica.
“She wasn’t innocent either,” I said calmly, with no tone in my voice. I have only known physical feelings since Lorelai ended my life.
But I wanted to know what it feels like to kill your killer. At the end, I was alone with the emptiness in myself.
“How do you know that?”
“We killed each other. The difference is that while I killed her body, she slowly killed my soul. I’m also dead. But I’m the one who’s punished, because you all could see that her body was bleeding. But you can’t see my spirit’s deep wounds. I had nothing except her. If Lorelai was my life, I could say that life killed me.”