I would say the last few days went by peacefully, but that would be a lie. Unfortunately, lying was something I had gotten pretty good at.

While everything seemed peaceful, my state of mind however was far from it. Not only was there someone out there that knew of my crimes, but the man who found out was a murderer. I understand how hypocritical that sounds given my situation, but please let me explain. 

The old man knew of my crimes because he too had a similar burden on his shoulders. He was right. We really were two sides of the same coin, but that left me with even more despair. 

If I couldn’t trust myself anymore, how could I ever trust him? A man that not only knew my secret, but shared it with me. The old man knew exactly what he was doing the day he left me at her grave.

At this point, the old man knew me better than I knew myself, since I had no intention of coming here today. The old man told me, himself, that it was all mere speculation, that he didn’t have an ounce of evidence against me, but I found myself sitting here waiting for him to unravel it all before me. But, why did I want him to find out the truth? 

Was it really fear that brought me to him now, or was there some other part of me that wanted to confess, when I knew I shouldn’t. The overwhelming guilt must have ruined my sense of judgment somehow. Only a fool would confess to a crime with no evidence against him. I guess the only problem would be the fact I was a fool. 

The church had quite a few people scattered throughout the pews. As the light dimmed, so did the number of people. I soon found myself sitting alone in the back pew again. This time there were no tears, but an eagerness to lift the burden over me. 

The guilt had become too difficult for me to bear. 

It was as if I was tied to something that I no longer had the hope of lifting by myself. Unfortunately, this burden was something that I had to carry alone. But the man who sat in front of me behind the closed door had a similar one. I didn’t really know him, but there was no other person I wanted to tell. Honestly, there was no longer anyone else that I could tell. 

If the old man and I really were two sides of the same coin, then that would mean one side would be lucky, while the other cursed. We would only be similar because of our burdens, but we would be different due to our misfortunes. I honestly don’t want to know which side of the coin I am anymore. In a game of chance, I always lose.