A monster. During the tale; truthful in every word, of which I am about to pen, I shall make frequent illusions to how ashamed I am of my actions, which has led to the inevitable conclusion of my life. These however shall be illusions. I do not solicit mercy for myself, nor belief in my account. Upon my death, these words shall be final. My final wishes. An insight as to how tangled my web has become.
I await my sentence, sat amongst the shadows of my prison cell. Staring into the darkness. Time has little meaning to me. Day upon day have I sat here; a prisoner lost in my own memories. My pernicious sins, however immoral, cannot be regretted. For I have lived more in these ...view middle of the document...
I do not wish to get my hands dirty, in any case. I knew, eventually, that my angel would fly in and save the day. A lure- a trap, no less.
A father infected with a brain aneurysm; a bulging, weak area in the wall of an artery that supplies blood to the brain-- hence, I define this for no other reason than for it to be remembered!
Desperate upon the arrival of his death that his children inherit more wealth, I informed my employee if managed to eradicate my angel, his children would be granted with more riches and luxury than could be dreamt of. He, of course, complied willingly.
For each person he brought eternal silence to, I paid money into his funds to be shared between his children. I knew that these deaths were attracting the attention of the angel-- serial suicides, no less! Working in alliance with the police force- the pastors of London-- he would have to investigate. And so he did. And this is how I first met the angel.
Like a fly trapped in my web, the angel was stuck. My prey. On the brink of defeat, panic flared in his eyes. Waiting with bated breath, I prayed for his life to end- albeit slowly and painfully, I confess!
However a bullet straight through the heart, blood splattering on the walls and bone rupturing through cloth ended such plans. It would seem God had misinterpreted my prayers! My employee flailing and groaning in his agony; sank to the floor ungracefully. Writhing in a pool of his own blood, still grinning manically- at the thought of his children’s new found wealth or in death, I am still to this day unsure. That angels are capable of murder-- expectant reader-- will come as a shock to you, I’m aware. But as forth, behold the truth.
As his final breath reverberated around the desolate, abandoned room; as his soul rested unsure in the hands of the Almighty, I vowed my dedication towards the fall of the angel. Not to avenge the pathetic, incompetent man with eyes a-glazed and scarlet threads of liquid running from his chest, lying motionless on the floor, but to see the angel fly. Storming out the room in irritancy, the celestial being departed, leaving me with a new found fury and intention in life.
“Farewell, for now.” I hissed; turning and walking away from the blazing lights of police sirens, shrieks of panic and bellows of authority.
Upon further endeavours to maraud and dispatch my bête noir, of which included a stolen thirty million pounds, defence missile plans, multiple murders to entice and wet his appetite, secret government operations brought to light and almost bringing the country to its knees, I finally arrived at the conclusion that I would be enforced to purge the Earth of this fallen angel. I would cause my nemesis to plummet to his demise personally, no matter the cost. To entail the complex details of these crimes upon paper would surely consume the remaining time I have left, so I pray simply touching on them in this manner will suffice and appeal to the mercy of the Almighty.