Disclaimer: The following character names are changed to protect their identities. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental.
This story has elements of sexual assault, suicide, arson and mutilation. Proceed with caution. May or may not be based on a real life and on-going case.
My heart goes to all victims of sexual assault, rape and abuse. There is a special place in hell for those perpetrators who are still not convicted of their crimes. If you know someone who is experiencing this kind of crime, please urge them to speak up and file a case against their perpetrators. Let them know that it's not their fault and that they are NOT alone.
This is a work of fiction.
Play the YouTube video on top and use your headsets/ headphones to listen to the ambient sounds.Thank you for reading Anthology of the Dark.Get cozy. And let us begin.----------
Not guilty, that is what the jury decided. He stood up from his seat and people around him patted his back. His smile broadens as he looked around the court. He met my eyes and he gave out a smirk. A smirk. He should be in jail, for everything he did to me. He committed a crime and he got away with it, and he knows it. He is proud he got away with it. That smirk is like him saying, 'I told you so, no one would believe you'. The law that was supposed to protect victims like me turned its back and everyone who was supposed to understand looked the other way and took his hand and money because that is what society does.
I sat there, looking down on my hands. Even before this case started, they called him innocent unless proven guilty; and they called me a liar unless proven guilt. Tell me, what so innocent about what he did to me? I looked at him, our eyes met, he gave out a smirk. A smirk.
I sat there while everyone around me debated on what to do next; I looked at my attorney, my parents, my cousins and my partner. Everything they said echoed in my head. Everything felt like spinning. I just wanted everything to stop. He walked out of there a free man. A clean man. A man with two clean hands, guiltless and innocent. They told me to trust the system, to pray... I am done praying; I am done trusting the system; I asked for help and they turned around and never looked back at me. They left me there.
I closed my eyes and remember the way he smirked at me as he walked away, a free man. That smirk, those hands. I missed the memo that society supports the perpetrators and criminals, especially if they have connections, status and money.
He is guilty. Guilty or everything, guilty of that night. He will pay. He took everything from he, my life, my sanity and my soul. He is a monster... But so am I.
I have two hands, the left and the right...
It was in the middle of the night, I was tired from working and he told me he could drive me home since he is also on the way, I thought how nice of him. We were just talking. Then, suddenly, he started driving towards an unfamiliar street, it was dark, it was dimly lit. I started wondering and asking where we were. He did not answer, his eyes looked on the dark street and parked somewhere where it is just the two of us.
...Hold them up high, so clean and bright...
He suddenly lunged at me and he forced himself onto me. I was shocked and I do not know what to do. I was scared and I froze. I froze. I saw myself from outside my body getting violated by this... This... This monster. He was having fun. I tried telling him to stop but he yanked my underwear and forced his hands down my private parts. I froze.
It was just the two of us. All I can remember is a dimly lit street, an orange light coming out of the lamp post, some tall grass and an empty street. He continued to violate me inside his old school car. I couldn't move, he said if I move or scream or do anything, he will kill me and my family because he knows where I live and he has an uncle that works in the government and they will protect him. I know this to be true and I am afraid of him. I am frozen. I am dead.
...Clap them softly, one, two, three...
A year passed, I am depressed and suicidal however I managed to act like everything was okay, I had to, because he threatened me. He said he will destroy my life and my future. If I tell anybody what he did, no one would believe me. He blamed everything on me, he said he assaulted me because I asked for it and because I went into his car and did not move when he did it. He groomed me every day and blamed me and humiliated me every chance he gets. But I had enough.
When I finally told people about what happened to me, the people in the office protected him because the CEO an COO of that company trusts him and are very close to him and his family; the people in the office who looked into my incident report against him did not believe me and said that it was consensual and they covered for him. They only gave him 11 days suspension for having an affair with his staff.
...Clean little hands are good to see.
I built a case against him because I found out I am not the first victim. He raped a batch mate when he was in college and destroyed her name and told nasty things about her, people believed him. He bragged about raping his girlfriend while she was passed out asleep and she had no idea, no one knew but I did because he told me. And then there was me. He manipulates people and become obsessed with them, if they talk, he does everything to destroy their lives and spread nasty lies about the girls to everyone around them. He is a narcissist and a psychopath.
I tried to voice out what happened to me and all his other victims, but the jury decided I was lying, and he was innocent. I have all the evidences, but the jury sided with him.
Not guilty.
***
I have two hands...
The night is peaceful and cold. The moon shine brightly. The world seems at peace... But not for long.
BANG! The sound of a gun fire echoed in their house. A husband suddenly took out his gun and shot his wife on her head. It was a cold-blooded murder. Police came in and took him to jail, he cried out he is innocent and he did not know why but he felt his hands moved on its own, as if he was being controlled like a puppet on a string. My perpetrator's father looked at his hands. Hands covered with the blood of his dead wife.
...The left and the right...
A few nights after his mother's funeral, he receives a phone call from jail saying his father killed himself by cutting his hands and somehow, he got on to the roof of the building and jumped off.
Hold them up high...
A week after his father's funeral, his brother, his wife and their children lit their house on fire with their cars' gasoline, only their hands were identifiable because as seen on their CCTVs, they stuck out their hands outside the window bars as their skin melted while they burn. They made no sound, they did not even move, it is as if they did not care that they were burning.
...So clean and bright.
A month after his entire family's death, the building where he worked caught fire. Apparently, an oil truck driver's hands suddenly swerved to where their building was and exploded killing everyone in the building including everyone who was involved in the administrative investigation.
Clap them softly...
Seeing a pattern here, my perpetrator moved to another city where he thought he was safe. He could feel it. Something wicked his way comes, it stared with his family, then the people who supported and protected him. He thought if he moved, he would be safe. He prayed and prayed for protection. He went to church every Sunday and became even more active to charities and helping other people for show.
For some time, he felt safe. Tragedies stopped happening around him, everything went back to normal. But he never admitted to what he done, never apologised for everything. Why would he? He was innocent. He blamed other people for his tragedies, he loved being the centre of attention, he loved playing victim. But like all stories, eventually, I saved the best for last, and so, one night; one cold, dark night, he felt a chill down his spine. He was alone in his room, minding his own business and then the lights started flickering. He looked around and checked whether it is time to change the fluorescent lights, he stared at it and BAM! The lights burst and some shards flew everywhere, he covered his face on time. It was dark so he stretched out his hands and began tapping around the room. Suddenly, his hands felt stiff. As stiff as a board.
...One...
His left hand started shaking and yanked him around. He could not control it. It almost felt like being a puppet with puppet strings. His right hand yanked him down to the floor where the shards were and started feeling the floor. He wanted to call for help but he could not; no voice came out from his throat. Finally, his right hand grabbed a big, sharp shard. He tried fighting it, but he could not. He was not in control. His left hand took out his belt and unzipped his pants and took out his tiny and limp penis. And then with his right hand, it slowly cut of his penis. He mouthed a scream, but no voice came out. He was in agony; tears fell on his face as blood and his penis dropped to the ground.
...two...
With blood flowing everywhere, he tried dropping the glass, but his right hand moved and dragged him across the room where he slammed on a desk. His left hand immediately placed itself on the desk, a light turned on showing how bloody and filthy his hands are. His continued to try to yell but still, no voice came out.
...three...
His right hand slowly moved towards his left hand and stopped at the pinky. He cried. Then just when he thought it was over, his right hand started chopping off his fingers one by one. It was swift, it was hard, but his fingers were chopped off like carrots. The amount of pain he felt was excruciating. It was a miracle he was still alive.
He cried in agony. It was extreme torture. He wished for death. He opened his eyes and he saw everyone who died because of him. They surrounded him. He saw all of them in their most gruesome form. They called out to him.
You lied.
You did this to us.
You are a liar.
You belong with us.
He could not believe his eyes. He thought he was delirious because of blood loss, he tried running but his body would not move, he is frozen. They closed in on him and he started yelling, finally a voice came out. He was screaming at the top of his lungs, his tears flowing like waterfalls down his cheeks, he shivers with fear and amidst his pain and suffering, he heard a soft voice with the wind...
I have two hands, the left and the right,
Hold them up high, so clean and bright.
I emerged from the darkness; our eyes met. He looked at me. One would think, can one see fear in someone's eyes? The answer is yes. Because he knew that all of this happened because of what he did to me. All these tragedies---all because he lied and did not admit to his crimes. This was his punishment. I continued singing my spell... Clap them softly, one, two, three...
I knelt beside him and moved closer, enough for him to realise it was me who hexed his father into murdering his mother, it was me who manipulated his father to commit suicide, it was me who cursed his brother and his family to die, it was me who controlled the truck driver's hands to swerved to the building that caused the truck to explode, killing everyone in it. All those deaths happened because of what he did to me. He turned me into this monster. But I felt nothing. I felt powerful, I felt rush, I felt justice was finally served. I looked into his eyes and smirked at him.
"This is too easy," I whispered, "This is not enough." I stood up and stared down at him. "I curse you to live and experience the death of everyone close to you repeatedly. If you do not commit to your crimes, this punishment will go on and on." He looked at me as if he were begging for everything and everyone to stop. "So mote it be--- Clean little hands are good to see."
Snap.
***
Not guilty, that is what the jury decided. I looked around the room in confusion, my attorney fixed his things, my parents rejoiced. Everyone patted me on my back. I looked around, my father is alive, my mother and brother and my niece too. My co-workers who stood on the stand and lied for me are also there, unscathed. I continued to look around, it is as if I had woken from a horrible, horrible dream. I was breathless. I looked at the other table and there our eyes met.
She had a cold expression on her face. She stood up and started walking towards the door, I followed her gaze. I felt relief that everything was only a dream. No one would know I lied. I really did sexually assault her in my car that night. I violated her; it was not consensual. But I am safe, I am untouchable. I gave out a sigh. What a relief...
...I have two hands, the left and the right... I looked up. I heard it. Was I he only one who heard that?
... Hold them up high, so clean and bright... I looked at her more and as she left the room, I can see her mouthing the song. That nefarious song... Clap them softly...This is not over yet. No, I know where this end...one, two, three... No. NO!
Clean little hands are good to see.