You can’t really blame me. It was that laugh. That smug little smile. That’s what sent me over the edge. I didn’t kill her. I’m not that kind of person. It was him. I had found him one day, while looking for comics online. He went by the name Kabashi (silent death). He was a well-known killer, at least by those who saw him and lived. He worked for hire, but at times, would kill his clients. He could commit a murder as silently and easily as a person could finish a book. Some say he had no soul, others say he was pure evil, whatever the reason; he was the one I sought out. Contacting him was both difficult and risky. If you even managed to catch him, he could simply kill you. Ordinarily I would have just left the site. Just forgotten what I saw and gone back to the real world. But I was desperate. The information on the website spoke to me as if it was my destiny. To meet Kabashi, you must first get through to his assistant, Tsubasa. She was beautiful, but it didn’t take me long to realize she wasn’t someone to mess with. Her edgy black hair and clothes were intimidating like a snake staring down a mouse. Gathering up all my courage, I managed to strike a deal with her. The price of his work was high, but well worth it.

It was to be done tonight. On her way home they would make their move. They never told me how they did it, actually I haven’t seen them since that night. The night I met him. It was a dark night, around 11. I was to meet them in the junkyard at the edge of town. After waiting for about an hour, I started to think that I’d been played. Suddenly two figures approached me. One being Tsubasa and the other being someone I had never met. He wore a cloak, dark and mysterious. His face was hidden in the shadows and a pair of mud coated boots adorned his feet. He said little as Tsubasa discussed the conditions of our deal. The only thing I can remember him saying was “Once I am given a job, I will risk my life to complete it”. That was three long weeks ago, today. I was told that the job would be done in full, but at the time I hadn’t realized what it would lead to.

The next few days were as normal as usual. Few, with the exception of immediate family, lamented her death. No one even suspected it was me. Just for safety purposes I mourned right along with the family. I was sure of my supposed innocence. Really sure. I thought I was untouchable. Sadly, I have to report that I was wrong. Dead wrong. What I didn’t realize was that there was someone always lurking in the shadows, watching me make every move. It was who I hadn’t even considered. It was someone who was even more cunning than I could have guessed. It was me. I killed someone. The thought seeped into my mind and it dawned on me. He didn’t kill her. I killed her. It was me. I am the murderer. I was going into a state of panic. I couldn’t eat or sleep. In my minds eye, I saw her being shot, choked to death, or even stabbed in the chest. I heard the blood curdling scream and saw that smirk, that horrible smirk. It said “you’ve killed me and now I will haunt you forever”. I felt like I was suffocating. Sinking into a pit of despair. I couldn’t take it. I ran and kept running. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t breathe. The tears started to fall, hot and salty, my knees buckled to the ground. “What can I do”, I screamed to the sky. Being this late at night, no one was around to hear or see me. I was alone. Completely alone. That’s when I saw it. A building, entirely white. I was drawn to it. I wanted-no I needed to go to it. Slowly I stood and started towards it. Once at the door, I stopped and stared. Unaware of what to do, but knowing I needed to do something. Swiftly, I reached for the door knob. The door creaked open and brought light into the room. The room was filled with pews that led like dominos, one after another. In the front, there was a large podium with flannel cross pictures hung off the sides. “It...feels so light”, I thought. For some reason the room set off a peaceful atmosphere, to which I had never known. I heard footsteps behind me and I flinched. It was a man, clad in blue jeans and a white polo. He smiled warmly at me and came closer. I wanted to move, but my legs wouldn’t respond. Finally meeting his eyes, I broke down into tears, falling to my knees. He put his arms around me, in an effort to establish some comfort. Through my sobs I told the whole tale. He didn’t judge me or say anything, just let me get it all out. Once I had finished, he spoke in a soft voice. He told of a man who was crucified for the sins of all. One who forgives anyone who asks him into their lives. That night was the first of many nights that I heard about a man named Jesus.