It was dark and he was all alone, with him. Damian chose the park bench which was right under a huge Banyan tree, to be unnoticed. It was a perfect place with a good vantage that had a full view of the park. The huge branches of the tree camouflages the bench that Damian was almost invisible in his black hooded track jacket. He was constantly gazing at him jogging around the park intermittently looking at his bowie knife which was still in its sheath so as to prevent it from reflecting light from its fine sharp blade. Saint Marys park is famous for the concealment from the outer world. The huge trees filters all kinds of pollutions and maintains a serene atmosphere in the park. Its overcrowded in the weekends but had very less people otherwise. The park becomes almost empty at its closing time. Damian has been observing and learning the regularities of the park. He has been watching him for weeks and now can predict his every move. It was 8:00pm and its been 15 minutes since he started gazing him. Anger and retaliation seethed within him which turned his eyes turn blood red. As every second passes, sequence of memories flash at the back of his head intensifying his anger. He gripped his bowie knife harder without taking his eyes out of him. He was incensed and his anger boiled when he saw him laughing while talking to someone over the phone. He wanted to take away his happiness forever. Memories flashes at the back of his head and a tear drop rolled down his eyes. He watched him jog faster now. He watched him appear and disappear under the golden lights in the park. He gripped his knife harder by its holder and waited for the right time. His anger engulfed his fear engendering retaliation. Being equally strong as him, his confidence shuddered. Gripping his knife harder, he took his hanky from his pocket, tied his hand tightly along with the kinfe so that it doesnt slip off his hand. His watch showed 8:12pm. His long wait had to pay off. He did not care about the repurcussions. He was wounded so deep that he couldnt be wounded any deeper. He watched him pass by everytime he finishes a round. He waited patiently in ambush to come across him the next round. He took his bowie knife out of its sheath and remained prepared. He didnt want to let down his promise he made to himself. He constructed his thoughts to do everything as planned. As he passed by him, Damian, with full rage, lunged from behind covering his mouth. He slit his throat with the knife tied to his hands and pushed him to the ground and sat on his chest, still having his hands on his mouth. He tried to push Damian down but the pain reduced his strength. He violently moved his body in pain which almost pushed Damian down, but he maintained to stay on him with his entire weight. The pressure he applied to stay over his chest broke his ribs. He enjoyed watching him die slowly with his blood oozing out from his throat. He gave another slit across his throat and watched him suffer the pain of death. The slit was powerful as the knife were tied to his hands. Damian, with an evil smile on his face, enjoyed every second of his death. He saw his eyes filled with tears and with blood scattered across his face. His violent movement then slowed down with his fully opened eyes slowly shutting down. Damian, without realizing he is dead with his throat half cut, feared that he might be saved and come alive. He looked around the park. Quitness prevailed, except for the crocking of insects. Wanting him to be dead forever, he took his knife, servered his throat, beheading him. A more contented and victorious Damian got up, looked one final look at his head, gave a peaceful smile at himself, unfurled his sleeves covering his blood stained hands and cautiously moved out of the place leaving the body under the golden light of the park.
With joy, sadness and fear equally mixed up, for a second Damian couldnt feel himself. He made sure no one noticed him while returning. Sitting in his study room in the dark with his boold stained hands, he felt peace. He switched on his table lamp to see the picture of his wife and his daughter more clearly, placed on his desk. He ran his fingers on the edges of the photograph, smiling at them. Reminded of something, he opened his desk drawer and tore the poloroid photograph which had a note written "Kill him" below it. He thrust his knife on the newspaper on his desk which had the headlines: "Mother and 12 year old daughter raped and killed. Criminal escapes."
After having a dozen sleeping pills, he went to bed with a hope that he would see his family again...
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