He held the gun in his hand, pointing directly at his own head. He wanted to do it; he wanted to end the life of his victim.
The father, kneeling down with his hands tied behind his back, could do nothing to stop the revenge-hungry widower. His eyes were wide with fear, tears streaming down his face as he pleaded for the lives of his family.
It was about five years ago, but to Sam, it was just like yesterday. It was a happy day, their fourth anniversary with his wife. They had been married for four years and had a daughter who would soon be having a baby sister in four months’ time. He loved his beautiful wife; her eyes and body were charming and beautiful to behold. He loved her right from day one.
He wanted to surprise her; he had gotten a promotion and he wanted to tell her over dinner at a fancy restaurant. There had been a lot of competition for the position, but he was lucky to have passed the tests. He took her to their favorite restaurant, the first place he saw her, the exact same place he proposed to her, and she agreed to make him the happiest man in the world. He ordered her favorite dish while their daughter was given a cup of her favorite ice cream. They were all enjoying their meal, and he felt eager to tell her already.
He watched them eat, savoring the joy and love that filled the room. But just in a flash, he heard gunshots. He hid himself under the table and urged his wife and daughter to do the same. He was still bent under the table when he saw the man aim directly at his wife and daughter, and the next thing he heard was more gunshots and their bodies soaked in a pool of blood. The shooter never touched him, but he saw the tattooed bird on his wrist.
He crawled to his wife and daughter, but they were already gone, shot straight in the head. He held them tight as he cried out loud, hot tears streaming down his face. He resigned his job and retired to a life of solitude and sorrow. Every night, he was haunted by the memory of that night, the sound of the gunshots, the sight of their lifeless bodies.
Two years after the incident, he was seated in a chair in the corridor, staring into empty space. He remembered the whole day, and the sound of the gunshots was clear in his memory, the time he held her lifeless body in his arms, hoping she would open her eyes one more time. He was still in deep thought when Dave came to offer him an invitation to his wedding in two months’ time.
Dave stretched his hand for a handshake when Sam saw the tattoo, the very same bird tattooed on the hand of his wife’s killer. He didn’t say a word but entered his house instead. He cried his heart out until his eyes were bloodshot red. He washed his face and packed his bags. He left and never looked back. He was getting his revenge, but like they always say, revenge is best served cold.
“Sam, I’m sorry, but please spare my wife and my son. I beg you,” Dave screamed at the top of his voice as hot tears ran down his face. Sam had captured them all, and he would have his revenge as he made Dave watch his pregnant wife and son die just the same way he killed his family right before his eyes. They were all tied up and blindfolded except Dave. He wanted him to watch them die.
He shifted the gun from Dave’s head and aimed at his son. He had his father’s hair and nose. A perfect picture. Dave was in tears; he wouldn’t want to watch his former colleague kill his family right before his eyes. But he was guilty as charged; he killed Sam’s wife and daughter because he wanted the promotion instead, and now he regrets it.
Sam stood silently as hot tears streamed down from his eyes. The boy was scared, and he could hear his silent sobs. The whole room was filled with cries from a whole family. Sam just stood there with the gun pointed to the boy’s head. He wanted so much to pull the trigger, but he couldn’t.
His hand was shaking as he watched the little boy cry. He remembered the last time he saw his daughter cry; her mom had refused her favorite dish for breakfast. He smiled when he remembered the stress he passed through to make her quiet. He smiled with tears in his eyes as he walked backward step by step. He put his hand down and dropped the pistol on the ground. He walked away, never looking back. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t worth it.
As he left the house, Sam’s mind was in turmoil. The act of mercy he had just performed felt both right and wrong. He had spent years nurturing his hatred, feeding on the desire for vengeance. And now, in the moment of truth, he had let it all go. The faces of his wife and daughter flashed before his eyes. He could almost hear his wife’s voice, soothing and calm, telling him that he had done the right thing.
What he also did was to turn the recorded confession he took when he was with Dave and handed it over to the cops for justice to be served.
Sam found himself at the cemetery, standing before the graves of his wife and daughter. The pain was still raw, but there was a new feeling mingled with it—a strange sense of release. He knelt down, placing his hand on the cold, hard stone, and whispered, “I did it for you. I couldn’t become like him. I couldn’t let hate consume me any longer.”
In the following weeks, Sam struggled with his decision. He sought solace in therapy, something he had resisted for years. The therapist, a kind woman with empathetic eyes, helped him navigate through his pain and anger. She encouraged him to write about his feelings, to find a way to express the turmoil inside.
One day, Sam wrote a letter to Dave. He didn’t know if he would ever send it to him in prison, but he needed to put his thoughts on paper.
“Dave,
I have hated you for so long. The night you took my family from me, you also took my life. I wanted nothing more than to make you suffer as I have suffered. But in that moment, standing in front of your family, I saw the cycle of pain. I saw that continuing it would destroy what little humanity I have left.
I don’t know if I can forgive you. But I can’t carry this hatred any longer. It’s a poison that has eaten away at my soul. I hope, for your sake, you find a way to live with what you’ve done.
Sam”
He didn’t send the letter, but writing it brought him a small measure of peace. Over time, he began to rebuild his life. He found a new job, something far removed from his past career. He moved to a new city, seeking a fresh start.
The nightmares didn’t disappear, but they became less frequent. The memories of his wife and daughter remained painful, but they also became a source of strength. He visited their graves often, talking to them about his progress, his struggles, and his hopes.
Years passed, and Sam slowly transformed his pain into a quiet strength. He started volunteering at a local community center, helping others who had experienced loss. He became a mentor, sharing his story with those who needed to hear it.
One day, a young man approached him after a support group meeting. “Your story… it helped me. I lost my sister in a shooting. I’ve been so angry. But seeing how you’ve managed to live with your pain… it gives me hope.”
Sam nodded, feeling a warmth spread through him. “It’s a long journey,” he said, “but you’re not alone. We can find a way through this together.”
As he walked home that evening, Sam felt a sense of purpose he hadn’t felt in years. He knew the pain would never fully go away, but he had found a way to live with it. He had turned his grief into a force for good, helping others find their way out of the darkness.
And in doing so, he found a measure of peace for himself.
