A few weeks prior.

I wish I could say I would take it all back, but a part of me was relieved that it happened. But that same part of me made me feel sick to my stomach, so I didn’t pay much attention to it. I loved her and I thought she loved me, but that wasn’t the case at all. 

I had studied the human mind for years, but none of it had prepared me for the mess I had entangled myself in this time. All of this was probably for the best though, a man who studied human behavior like myself, should have seen this coming. The fact that I didn’t, told more about me than I’d care to admit. 

I clasped my hands together like everyone else in the church as the pastor prayed to end the sermon.  Everyone else had their eyes closed, but mine remained open. Everytime my eyes tried to shut they would begin to burn. Unfortunately, I don’t think it was because of the dry church air this time. 

The preacher stood at the front of the church, at the pulpit, behind the podium. His voice was clear and crisp as he prayed. Honestly, I wished that it wasn’t, every word he spoke seemed to burn my eyes more and more. I couldn’t help but feel the prayer was directed at me, in a sort of weird way. 

“Forgiveness,” the Bishop prayed, “Lord, please help us learn to forgive those who wrong us. Please help those who have been wronged, not burn with hatred, but learn to forgive and find peace. Lord, let us take comfort that you will take care of those who harbor ill intentions towards us in your own time.”

He just wouldn’t stop. Every word lit a fire within my heart, and I could feel the pain in my eyes continue to grow. Eventually tears began to hit my shoes as my head rested against my knees. My eyes burned with a feeling that I had come to know too well the last few days, guilt. 

“Vengeance is mine,” Saith the lord.” The preacher shouted to the congregation, in which the whole church, besides me, responded, 

“Amen.” 

The once silent room was filled with chatter as the church goers, I assumed, gathered their things. I, however, couldn’t move. My eyes remained locked onto my feet as my hands rested against my temples, which shielded my poor site away from the happy church goers. Every second that passed by seemed like an eternity in my mind, as my fingernails began to dig into my scalp. 

The congregation, however, did not seem to understand that my eyes being covered did little to affect my hearing. As they passed the bench at the back, I could hear their whispers. 

“Wasn’t he Jasmine’s boyfriend?” They would ask, only to be hushed by people who talked louder than them.

“He looks terrible.” They would say as they walked past me through the door. The church was full when I first got there. Yet, not a single person said a word to me, but they all talked about me. 

When I thought everyone was gone, I lifted my head only for my eyes to be met by a man whose presence couldn't be felt at all. He had his hair slicked back for church, but a couple of his bangs had fallen loose over his brown eyes. He seemed like a pretty average man, however, there was something strange about him. 

I watched him as he passed by the pew, and without looking back he walked through the large doorway. It wasn’t until I was truly alone that I realized, the whole time he walked, I couldn’t hear his footsteps at all.