Burning Soul

Blood. It was not new. For me. My hands had already been stained with bloodied scars from my past while my soul had been drenched in the blood of my victims. I guess that’s why they call me a serial killer. A bit of an overstated term but who in this foolish society have the common sense to correct it. Anyways, these fools have put me up for life imprisonment. I entered this prison – my abode at the mere age of 23 and now 20 years have passed. I was fortunate to meet countless identities all with stories of why they joined my haven.

Most of them happened to be boring with a few exceptions. But the one I heard 2 days back is still fresh in my mind. A 23-year-old killed her victim – some idiotic minister – by stabbing his heart more than 20 times that too when he was alive. I first admired her courage. It felt so heroic. But later when I got to have a look at her eyes. I saw the truth. Flames of anger freshly burning and dancing wildly. A long cut on her wrist. A cut that I gave her 20 years ago. When I killed her father in front of her. And now she has come for the same. To kill me – a 43-year-old woman. Her soul burning with anger. Waiting. To take away. My stained life.