THE MONTH
I killed.
Every day.
Every night.
People I didn't know.
Names on a list.
Faces I'd never seen.
---
First kill was an old man.
Eighty-seven years old.
Sick.
Weak.
Already dying.
---
I walked into his room.
He looked at me.
Didn't beg.
Didn't cry.
Just looked.
---
"You will burn in hell," he whispered. "You monster."
---
I killed him.
Felt nothing.
---
I'm already in hell.
What's one more circle?
---
I killed kids.
I killed women.
I killed whole families.
Seventy people in one month.
Seventy souls on my hands.
---
I told myself it was for Gita.
I told myself everything would be okay.
We'd start a new life.
We'd be happy.
We'd forget.
---
I lied.
---
THE PAYOFF
Thirty days.
Seventy kills.
Kabhir called.
"Congratulations, partner. You win your prize. Thanks for playing with me."
People's lives are just games to him.
---
"Where is she?"
He gave me an address.
I ran.
---
THE ROOM
Dark.
Empty.
One chair.
Gita sat in it.
---
She was alive.
But not living.
---
Her body was broken.
Cut.
Burned.
One eye gone.
The other staring at nothing.
---
"Gita..."
I fell to my knees.
Touched her face.
She didn't react.
Didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Just... sat there.
Empty.
Like me.
---
"I'm here. I'm here. I've got you."
I carried her out.
So light.
So broken.
So empty.
---
THE HOSPITAL AGAIN
Days passed.
She didn't wake.
Didn't move.
Machines kept her alive.
But she was already gone.
---
The doctor came.
"Her body can't handle it anymore. The damage is too extensive. Her soul wants to live, but her body... it's given up."
---
She died on a Thursday.
I don't remember the date.
I don't remember anything except—
her hand going cold in mine.
---
I laughed.
Then cried.
Then laughed again.
Laughed so hard I couldn't breathe.
---
"GOD!" I screamed at the ceiling. "ARE YOU STILL WATCHING ME?! HAHAHAHA! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING!"
No answer.
There never is.
---
That night, I drank for the first time.
Whiskey.
Bottle after bottle.
Didn't get drunk.
Didn't feel anything.
---
I wanted to die.
But I couldn't.
Not yet.
Not before—
---
"I will erase everyone connected to Kabhir."
The words came out quiet.
Cold.
Final.
"Everyone."
---
That night—
a monster was born.
---
THE RAMPAGE
I killed.
And killed.
And killed.
---
The local store owner where Kabhir bought cigarettes?
Dead.
The tea stall where his men gathered?
Burned with everyone inside.
Distant relatives.
Old friends.
Random associates.
Anyone connected.
Anyone who ever smiled at him.
---
I became what I hated most.
A demon.
A devil.
---
The mafia gave me a name.
"The Devil of Death."
Catchy.
Wrong.
I'm not a devil.
Devils feel joy in cruelty.
I feel nothing.
---
Emptiness.
Hollowness.
Blood.
That's all I am now.
---
THE FINAL KILL
Kabhir thought he was safe.
Big house.
Armed guards.
Security systems.
---
None of it mattered.
---
I walked through his doors like death itself.
Guards fell.
Bullets missed.
Or maybe I just didn't care anymore.
---
I found him in his bedroom.
Pajamas.
Glass of whiskey.
Eyes wide with fear.
---
"Veda—wait—we can make a deal—money—women—anything—"
---
I didn't speak.
Didn't need to.
---
I cut him.
Piece by piece.
Slow.
Methodical.
Watching.
Learning.
---
He screamed.
Begged.
Promised.
Cried.
---
I felt nothing.
---
When there was nothing left to cut—
I put the gun in his mouth.
"Your brain is broken," I said. "Let me fix it."
---
I pulled the trigger.
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2044. AGE 44.
---
Ten years passed.
Ten years of killing.
Ten years of emptiness.
Ten years of being dead inside.
---
Five hundred eighty-eight people.
That's how many I've killed.
I stopped counting after a while.
But the news counted for me.
---
Today—
I'm standing on top of a building.
High.
Cold.
Wind cutting through me like knives.
---
Police everywhere.
Below.
Helicopters above.
Guns aimed at me.
Rifles.
AK-47s.
Enough firepower to kill a hundred men.
---
"VEDA RAJ KUMAR! LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS! YOU'RE SURROUNDED!"
A megaphone voice.
Desperate.
Scared.
---
I wave.
Slow.
Lazy.
No emotion.
"Hello! How are you doing, people?"
My voice carries on the wind.
Dead.
Flat.
Tired.
---
News reporters are there too.
Cameras.
Lights.
They want to capture the moment.
The death of the Devil.
---
I look up at the sky.
"God."
My voice is quiet.
"You took everything from me. My mother. My wife. My child. My soul. I have nothing left."
---
I look down at the police.
At the guns.
At the cameras.
At the world that watched me become this.
---
"I only have myself now."
I spread my arms wide.
"Take me too."
---
I step off the edge.
---
Falling.
Wind rushing past.
Sirens fading.
---
"Oh."
I almost smile.
"This is what birds feel."
---
THE GROUND
---
I hit a police car.
Crash.
Bones breaking.
Blood everywhere.
Pain—
but distant.
Like it's happening to someone else.
---
I can't move.
Can't speak.
Can't do anything except—
see faces.
---
My mother.
Smiling.
Gita.
Her eyes. Her real eyes. The ones that had home in them.
A baby girl.
Shakti.
Never born.
Never lived.
Never died.
Just... never.
---
"I'm coming to join you."
The words don't leave my mouth.
But I feel them.