Evil is Seductive: Part II

By Tony Casson

It took a moment for the reality of the situation to sink in. I had known for about a year and a half that the FBI would come for me sooner or later (more on that another time), but now that they were here and once it HAD sunk in, I did an about-face and returned to my room.

Fortunately for me–at least that’s the way I felt at the moment–no one saw me, as their attention was focused on the motel office where they must have determined I was going to be at that time, on that day.

It is extremely difficult to describe my state of mind at this point. I locked the door and threw the sliding lock. My heart was pounding, my mouth was dry, and I moved about my tiny room wildly–pacing–in a state of panic.

I moved into the small bathroom and  stood in front of the sink, which was right next to the shower, looking into the mirror for what seemed like a long time. I am sure was mere seconds. It’s amazing the amount, and diversity, of information that the human mind can process in a very short amount of time.

It’s amazing, too, how afraid and completely alone a human being can feel.

I stood there, tears forming, staring into my eyes watching them form, trying to look into the depths of my soul where the darkness was. To that part of my being that had been–through the course of my life–so thoroughly seduced by evil. I tried to find a solution to the predicament I was in, and the only solution I could come up with was that the evil had to die.

That part of me that I had despised through the years but was small enough to be manageable (or so I thought) had grown and consumed enough of my soul that the little remaining that was good inside of me suddenly felt outmatched and death loomed as the only solution.

I felt that the predictions of self-destruction that had been made when I was in my teens had finally come home to roost. I also felt that I had betrayed the love and friendship of so many people, and I was unworthy.

For years, various people had told me I was my own worst enemy and now, today, at this moment, I finally agreed with them, and I decided that the only way to win was to defeat the enemy, and to defeat the enemy, the enemy must ultimately die.

Since the room was small and contained a bed, a dresser, an entertainment center, and a table with 2 chairs, there was only a small amount of space to walk in, but walk I did–to the door–to the front window–to the back window.

The windows were old jalousie type windows common in south Florida that had long ago stopped opening and closing, the panes of glass were frosted, and most of the panels were sealed with silicone to keep out dust and the warm, often hot, Florida air. There was one clear pane at the bottom of the front window, facing the parking lot, that I had put in when I had moved in so I could check the lot without going outside, but at that moment the curtains were drawn and I was afraid to move them to peek outside.

I knew they would shortly discover that I was not in the office and would then focus their attention on my room.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I returned to the bathroom. I was breathing heavily, in a totally panicked and desperate state, telling myself, “You’re f—-d, you’re f—-d, you’re f—-d! You’ve got no way out! You’ve got to do it! You have f—-d up your life you stupid, stupid ass. You’ve got to put an end to this now!”

I hadn’t contemplated suicide before, nor have I since, but at that time, in the state of mind I was in, hating who I was and what I had done to my life, my children, my family, and my friends, not thinking that anyone would understand, and not wanting to fight my demons anymore, the decision was made. Now the only thing remaining–and time was surely running out–was, “How do I do this??”

My mind was racing, going through its memory of what was in my room that I could use to end this madness, finally settling on the blades contained in a disposable razor. I grabbed one and broke it, back now in front of the sink. As it broke apart, the blades came free and fell into the sink. I picked them up–they were difficult to grasp because they were so narrow, but they were all I had.

The tears were coming faster now, flowing more freely, the accumulated pain of my life’s mistakes welling up and spilling out of my eyes and down my cheeks.

Holding a blade between the thumb and first 2 fingers of each hand, I raised them to the sides of my neck, lightly pressing on each vein. Standing there, I looked into the tear-filled eyes staring back at me in the mirror, trying to find an answer different from the one I had arrived at.

I no longer knew the person looking back at me, and I found no different answer…

(To be continued)

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