Yesterday's Iniquities

1

January2

Gasping breaths do nothing to reduce the pressure in my lungs. I fear that if I don’t do something quickly the pressure will overtake me and lead me to do something that I will regret forever. Yet, somehow in the midst of my pain and confusion these words are familiar, as if I have heard them somewhere before. Thoughts race through my head as I suddenly realize that this is impossible. I don’t know where I am, and my name remains a distant echo in the darkness. Fingers of fear crawl up my neck and poke burning needles into my brain; my blood is boiling. My broken screams echo off the walls, and I hope that the sound will escape through the cracks so that someone will come find me. Yet, at this very thought, the pain becomes agonizingly worse. I clutch my head and wait for the end.3

I am going to die. I feel death’s greedy hands waiting for me. Someone is watching me. Why won’t they help me? Why are they leaving me here to die? I hate them, and if death is refused one more soul I will tell them how my brain burned with fury when I saw their eyes staring out at me. I will watch them die I will laugh at them as their cries for mercy surpass all the pain that I feel. Yet I will not make them linger on in agony, as they have forced me to do; I will let them die quickly because I will remember my own misery.4

February5

My skin tingles as I feel warmth surrounding me. This does not feel right. Something is missing. In thankful relief I realize that pain no longer consumes me, and my blood no longer boils. I see a woman in white who tells me to rest. As I drift into a calming sleep, I know I am safe.6

March7

They say I have amnesia and that I was found in an abandoned building with a head injury. I don’t know my name, but they call me Bob. Now I have a job, and I live in an apartment next to the nurse that first took care of me. Something about her is driving me crazy. I see her looking at me when she thinks I don’t see, but afterwards I doubt what my eyes have seen. She has a little girl named Sarah. Sarah is so familiar to me. I can’t remember anything, yet when I see her face I have hope that someday I will. Why do I remember her? She makes me remember my pain, yet when I see her I didn’t want to look away from her face. I tell myself that my brain is lying to me, that I do not know this little girl, yet these thoughts continually cling to my brain like her face clings to my dreams. Maybe this is a sign. Maybe someone is telling me that someday I will remember.8

April9

I can’t stop thinking about Sarah. She is so familiar. Why do I know her? I see her in my dreams, yet I’ve only seen her once. She is only a child, and yet it seems like she should consume my whole life. This makes no sense. Something is wrong here. My head is burning from the very thoughts that my brain has been solely devoted to for the last month. This pain is the very thing I have been avoiding since my injury. I can’t bear this gnawing, destructive ache. 10

May11

Doubt creeps in, and fingers are pointing at me from each direction. My head is on fire. Memories of those days that were so unbearable haunt me. My dreams are filled with pain and agony. I see myself on the floor, with blood surrounding me. I hear laughter through the cracks in the walls. It is the woman in white. It is Sarah’s mother. I shake this nightmare away; it has been coming very frequently now. Sarah is still on my mind. I haven’t seen her again. The woman in white is keeping her from me, and I don’t know why she is doing this. If I could only see Sarah, maybe my nightmares would subside. 12

June13

The pain is back. Hell has not overlooked anything this time. Every sound, every movement magnifies my torture to unimaginable heights. They gave me pills, which don’t do anything to alleviate this gruesome pain, or soothe the boiling in my blood. I keep taking them, however. They help me remember; they keep Sarah’s face fresh in my mind. They make me remember things that I thought time had stolen from me forever. I remember Sarah, always with me. I remember the adoration in her eyes as I swung her in my arms. I remember telling her that I would never let her fall. Yet now she is always with the woman in white, calling her ‘mother’. This thought only intensifies the pain. I clench my teeth to prevent a scream of pain and rage as another memory creeps into my mind. 14

I am sitting on a bed, and Sarah is there. I kiss her goodnight, and I say that I love her. I watch her close her eyes. As she drifts into a tired slumber she says four words that break my heart into pieces for what I have lost, then reconstruct a new, whole version to hold the belief that I feel welling up inside me; “I love you... Daddy.”15

July16

The pain slowly drains away into the ocean of merciful knowledge. I am Sarah’s father. Now I know why she consumes my mind at every moment. Why doesn’t she remember me? This thought has raged in my mind for too long. It is the woman in white. She keeps my daughter from me. She tells her not to speak to me, because she knows that Sarah is mine. She stole Sarah from me. She is laughing at me, torturing me. I know this laugh. Didn’t I hear its awful resonance when I was all alone, with only my anguishing torment to remind me that I was still alive? Didn’t I see her mocking glare through the cracks in the walls of my prison? She saw me there, and she did not help me. She stole my daughter, and now she looks at me scornfully as if I am the one to blame. I will punish her for what she has done. She will get her just retribution for the pain she has caused me.17

August18

The realization of what I must do descends upon me, dark shadows of night after a warm summer’s day. Unwanted, but admittedly needed. A plan forms in my head. It forms slowly however, as if fettered by the burden of my own reluctance. I know that the only way to fix this is to save my Sarah from the prison that she is unknowingly ensnared in. As I become aware of what I am planning, my mind revolts. I cannot do this. Fear creeps in, a stealthy burglar in the night. I try to resist, and continue in my planning, but the fear is accompanied by the pain which I had thought was gone forever. I cannot resist as my two enemies unite to subdue my errant thoughts. How could I think that anything I could do would bring Sarah back to me? The lady in white always wins; always. She stole my Sarah, she invaded my brain, and now she is taunting me. She knows that I will never be able to carry out my plans. I may make plans and tell myself that I am a lion, but she sees that I am lower than a lamb. She knows that I could never cause someone pain. Not even her, the woman who has caused the deadening of my senses as she watched the pain consume me. Not even her, the woman who stole my child from me. 19

September20

I need to get Sarah back to me. I know that if she returns, the pain will cease. I know that I am incapable of violence, so I must think of some other way to get Sarah back. Maybe I could convince the woman in white that Sarah still needs me. Perhaps under her cloak of hard, cold hatred, her heart is still beating. I recoil at the loathing I feel at this thought. Thoughts of what I could do to stop that heart fill my brain until it swells enough for me to believe that I could actually carry out one of these notions. A knife in her heart? Poison in her wine? I revel in the cunning deception that I begin to believe; and although it will fade in a moment, it strengthens me for now. 21

Although I want to continue believing that I will be able to act in violence and get revenge on the woman in white, I know that I must begin another plan. Perhaps if my ever-present fear gets lost in a fury of vengeful thoughts, I will be able to avenge myself; but for now I will have to comfort myself with the possibility that getting Sarah back will satisfy my urge to cause the woman in white pain. Since reasoning seems an unlikely possibility for changing the woman in white’s mind, blackmail seems the only option. I need information, so I begin to follow the woman in white. If I watch her enough I know I will see something. No one is perfect. I watch her at home, I watch her at work, and I watch her with Sarah. Finally after watching her for days I catch her. She is an evil, lying woman. She is sitting in her office, and I watch through the window as she silently reaches under her desk. I know that the office’s supply money is in a safe under her desk. She buys the office supplies. I see her reach under the desk and pull out a stack of twenties. Now she stands up and waltzes out of the office, with a gaily jaunt that infuriates me to the point of repulsion. My repulsion flows from my eyes and falls onto the window as salty raindrops. She is stealing and lying, and I caught her. My thankfulness quickly dissolves into hurried plans. I must act quickly. Now she will listen to what I say. 22

October23

I still watch the woman in white. I need the perfect time to confront her. She is sneaky like a fox, but I watch her like an eagle in wait for its prey. She will not get away with what she has done. I watch and I watch and still I watch, until the perfect moment arises. The woman in white sits in her kitchen. She sits, and her eyes slowly droop, but at the slightest sound they open wide, as if prepared for disaster. She is waiting, I am sure. Although who or what she is waiting for I can’t decide. I flatter myself that she is waiting for me, but I know this is foolish. She hates me; she watched me burn in hell’s torment and she enjoyed it, as I will enjoy her pain when I ruin her perfect life. I will take Sarah and then I will tell everyone what she has done. She will never get Sarah again. I slowly move towards the door and I knock quietly. I imagine the fright that must mask her features now. It pleases me that she does not expect me. She thought she conquered me, but it is her that will be ruined and left in the dust. I wait in anticipation for the door to creak open and let trouble in. The door does not open. She knows it is me. She knows I have plans to devastate her. Frustration grabs me and rattles my nerves. I should have known she would not break that easily. As my blood boils with anger and hatred, I swear that I will not give up. No matter how long it takes me I will get Sarah back. I will pay the woman in white back for all that she has done to me. 24

November 25

I am watching the woman in white again. I make sure she doesn’t see me this time. Last time I was careless, but this time I am cautious, a silent presence in the dark. She may suspect, but she will never see me. She looks nervous all the time; her eyes dart back and forth at the slightest sound. I take immense pleasure in this, knowing that it is me that is caused her reason for dismay. I am the one in control now. This makes me feel pleased, but also fearful that it is making her too careful. She never leaves the house alone. I want to confront her, but always there are friends, always there is safety for her. I know that it cannot last forever. I see her when she does not see me. I know where she is at every moment. She will relax her guard one day. One day she will walk alone, and I will spring my trap. She will give me Sarah, and I will not ruin her life. I know that she will see reason. I will become very cunning with my words, and she will believe me. 26

I watch and I wait. It seems that my imagined day of glory will never come. Then it happens. Last night, the woman in white was up late and on her computer. She had invited a friend to sleep over as she did every night now. I didn’t understand what she was doing, and I didn’t dare to get any closer to check what she was up to. I waited until she fell asleep before I made my getaway. I stayed up all night, an unlikely owl, trying to figure out what she had been doing. Now it all makes sense. She is holding Sarah in her arms. She seems extremely nervous. Has she seen me? She glances over her shoulder every few moments, and the raw fear in her eyes startles me. She is afraid of me? I can’t believe this. No, it must be something else. When she gets to the train station, I understand what she is doing. She is clever, I realize. She is much more clever than I had guessed. She has not made any last touches to the apartment, and all of her clothes and possessions are exactly where she left them. I check every morning; for fear that she will make a quick getaway before I realize she is gone. Now, she only carries a small purse. She almost escapes right under my nose. This angers me, and yet I feel satisfaction that she isn’t going to be able to carry out her plans. She will get on the train, and she will get off the train; but I will be right behind her. Now, when she lets her guard down I will be there and I will be ready. 27

December28

I am getting tired of waiting. Although the woman in white’s guard is relaxing slowly, she still glances behind her periodically. I am consumed with the fear that she will see me one day. As I become more impatient I become sloppy. I fear that she may have already seen me. This only makes me look closer. I wait for the moment of confrontation, the moment that I have been waiting for, and finally it comes. I thought it would never happen, and now suddenly it springs upon me like a giant cat in wait for its prey. However, this time I am the cat, and the woman in white is the prey. She is comfortable enough to stay at the house with Sarah without anyone else present. This is the first time this has happened. I cannot believe that I am finally going to be able to carry out my plan. I watch until Sarah is safely in bed, feeling elated that finally I will be the one to kiss her goodnight and tell her I love her. Now I slowly walk towards the door and knock. There is a few moments of waiting, and I am beginning to wonder if she will open the door at all, when at last the door swings open. When she sees who is waiting behind the door, her look of polite welcome turns to disbelieving horror. I see her lips moving, but no sound comes out. She begins to close the door, but no. Not this time. I will not let her stop me again. I push the door open and close it behind me. The woman in white is white as the wall she is trembling against. I cannot understand this reaction. I know she must have known I was watching her, and that is why she ran away, but why the fear? I just want to talk. I can’t understand this.29

I have no time to try to figure it out. The woman in white is slowly backing away from me. A broken “no!” escapes from her lips. I am not going to let her get away. I run to grab her, but she is too quick. She turns and bolts into the next room. As she runs to the kitchen counter I see her grab something shinny and metallic. To my horror I see it is a sharp, deadly meat knife. I have no time to think, but as I grab the knife a thought runs through my mind. “She took away Sarah, and now she will take me away too.” As I plunge the knife into her chest, I am not thinking. All I know is that I must have been planning this from the beginning, for there is no regret in my actions, only an overwhelming sense of pleasure. Every drop of her blood is a tear that I shed because of what she did to me. Every tortured scream that escapes her mouth is a pain-filled, haunted cry that she wrung from my lips by her actions. Every plunge of the knife into her body is only a fraction of the pain I felt when I was all alone. Finally I am getting my revenge. I don’t know how long I have been in this kitchen, holding a blood-stained knife when I hear a noise behind me. Fear fills my senses. Has someone heard? Did someone see what I have done? Blinded with a fearful rage, I swing the knife blindly, feeling relief when it hit something solid and human, again and again. I have eliminated the witness. 30

After the wave of fear has passed, I eagerly drop the knife and begin to leave the room, searching for Sarah. I cannot leave, though, without seeing what my blind fear and rage has done. I tell myself that it was the woman in white’s fault, and that my actions were not bad, but utterly just. That is when I notice the body at my feet. Covered in blood, it is the witness. It is not just the witness, it is my future. I recoil in self-hatred as I recognize the pink pajamas, now stained red by her blood. Did I not see her wearing them as the woman in white tucked her into bed? I now see what I have done. It is not just. I have taken two lives. I took the very life which life I came here to protect. I killed Sarah. I killed my Sarah. My future crumbles before my eyes as I watch the blood pool on the tiled floor. I have killed Sarah, and now I will kill myself. I drag my eyes away from her lifeless body, and force my feet to move. I do not deserve to die where Sarah now lies. I will die alone, as I should. I find my way to a place where I am sure no one will find me; I do not deserve to be remembered. As the destructive ache in my chest threatens to kill me, I determine that a physical pain that I will inflict will. I raise the knife slowly, and brace myself as it descends towards me. I know that this is the end.31

January32

I feel air slowly seep into my lungs, but it does nothing to reduce the pressure in my chest. If I do not do something quickly, this pressure will overtake me and lead me to do something that I will never forgive myself for. Somehow in all this confusion these words seem to mean something.”Have I heard them before?” The thought rushes through my head, and just as quickly I know it can’t be true. I don’t know where I am, and my name is a long-forgotten memory. Pain crawls up my spine, and burns in my brain. My blood is boiling. My weak and broken screams echo distantly off the walls, and I uselessly imagine my screams flying out of this prison and reaching someone who could help me. Yet, at this thought the pain only intensifies. I clutch my head and wait for the end.