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Running as fast as my legs could carry me, I ran past bushes, panting heavily, hot beads of sweat rolling down my face. I must had run for what seemed like hours, not exaggerating, if not for the rock that almost had me face down. “Aargh!” I groaned, limping and searching for a place to rest, not having a hard time finding one, as I sat to reminisce on my past life.
“Tell us where the money is or I’ll shoot—” those were the words I replayed in my head, remembering how I had pulled the trigger, mercilessly.
“Ah!” rang the grunt of my victim, sending cold chills up my spine.
I wept profusely—first time feeling sorry for my kill—not like it was my first time killing someone. I’ve been in the game for all I know. Daniel and I. At least, not until he died. We were going to go to France. Start anew. Leave everything behind and live a life we’ve always wanted—a life of freedom.
The life I wanted was a peaceful one. I wanted a clean start and wanted so bad to forget all the bad things I’ve ever done. But I guess nemesis do have a way of catching up with someone, don’t you think? The souls have killed. All those times, those years, killing those innocent people who never did anything. Having them slaughtered and thrown, wherever. Men. Women. Children. All who didn’t deserve to die.
I was a wanted criminal. No partner. No home. Not even anyone to turn to. Even The Almighty who they said was merciful, I knew wouldn’t think of letting me in, not with the horrible things I’d done. Was there ever a place I could find solace, a place where I wouldn’t be a fugitive but a freeman to be welcomed with arms open wide?
“Oh, Daniel,” I said aloud, “Is this really what you would have wanted if you knew your end was near?” I sighed and lifted my head to the clouds as though I was seeking the face of God. God? I wondered, Does he really see everything from up there? I sighed again and rose to my feet. “Lord, if you can hear me, I ask you take my soul and let me be free from this burden.” I said, anxiously waiting for my wish to be granted. It was as though all those stories my Christian foster parents told me weren’t real. They’d say God answers all prayers. That when you call to Him, He’ll answer. “Lord!” I called louder, hoping He’d hear me this time. “Lord. If you can hear me, end this now and let me be free!” The second time still, nothing happened. Groaning in frustration, I picked up a stone and threw it in the air. “Grr!” Not like it was of any help. I left that place and got running again.
It wasn’t much time that I had begun, that I realized a cabin stood up head.
At last—

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