dark | side | thursday | Letter From K


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Dear B,

I tried looking for you, you weren’t there. There was so much to be said, to be discussed, and to explore. I could make a list and the pages would be less. I say this from all my heart, darling. You may choose or not choose to believe – we need to air this out. This is me doing that.

We wander looking for the greatest stories in life. Only on one rare day realize that we are part of it. Such as ours. We were a team. An absolute pair of thieves only to realize life had robbed more from us than we ever did. The money was always the key. The rush was something else entirely, the blood racing through our veins, that quickening of breath. For a long time, we thrived on that.

But this ruse we are a part of, this awesome nightmare; it wasn’t part of the deal. We can’t – I can’t go on like this.

Knowing, fretting the siren calls day by day and the never-ending nights; they have shrunk me. My doctor said I might die, noticing my sleep-deprived skeletal frame. That’s funny.

We were good, the best even. Hiding our vices from the world. You taught me that people have short sight; which is why we succeeded. The last win though had me twisting and turning at nights. It didn’t feel like one. We lost. We lost our freedom. We lost our humanity with that one.

You said we were never to meet again, or talk of it. We haven’t. But I am writing to you now because this has gone on long enough.

Life has a way of throwing punches back at you. Consider this one of its punches. We should have called for help. We should have given ourselves up. It wasn’t right! We were going to hell anyway, but not engulfed in the worse of it.

I think back to that night. There was so much blood. Everywhere. We were small-time thieves. Under the radar was our thing. But that was low even for us. I shouldn’t have let you talk me into holding that gun. For such a deadly weapon, it felt light in my hand. Right in my hand.

It was wrong what we did, killed the old man for a few easy bucks. But here I am hiding. Every month a different place, a different face, a different life. Today I am Andy, tomorrow I am John.

I thought we’d be together having a future and put the old ways behind us. Then our choices caught up with us. We didn’t think straight – I doubt we ever did.

We rattled the old man, though he was brave. He wasn’t supposed to be up. For a 70-year-old guy, he was fast. You said to hold the gun straight. I tried, but it didn’t feel so right anymore. Everything was happening so fast only I was too slow to realize what I had done. It was late. Over.

We got what we wanted, but the guilt held onto us like an anchor. I am drowning.

I still see his ghost sometimes. The alcohol hasn’t done me any good.

It was us; we are tainted as long as we live. Me, more so, I pulled the trigger after all.

No matter the new faces we wear, it is following us. His ghost has haunted me long enough to have people stare at me and think I am crazy. Maybe I am.

But you ask, why now? Why is he writing after 2 years? It’s past. All gone.

The thing is I saw his daughter the other day, you know from the news. We chatted for a bit in the café. Of course, I didn’t say who I was. I learnt she was supposed to leave for college 2 years ago. Suffice to say it didn’t happen. It was their life savings; the money we stole.

We ruined that. We were professional crooks, I can’t count how many lives we robbed. There was no excuse for such a mess, this time. I think we rightly deserve our fate. But what if we hadn’t chosen this life? What if we hadn’t lost everything and not have found each other. Would we still be thieves? Who would we be?

These questions keep me awake, long enough to make me breathless. I don’t want to think anymore. Please know this, I would never rat you out. You have time and again in the past, saved my life. I would never let this out; I’d take this to the grave.

I plan to.

– Yours K


In response to Andy Townend’s dark | side | thursday .

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