I could not believe it. When he walked into the party, Juanito seemed so mad he might have escaped from apsych ward. His hair, usually well groomed, was a mess and his soldier costume was so dirty its green color looked more like a deep purple. I wanted to disappear because I knew what was going to happen. Juanito walked in with a purpose. He saw Chucho and quickly approached him. Chucho didn’t even have a minute to react let alone defend himself. Juanito hit him so hard he fell and almost fainted from the force of the blow. I could not wait any longer. I had to do something.
“Juanito, dear. What’s wrong? You can’t attack people without a reason.” I had to feign innocence. Otherwise Juanito could kill Chucho – something I couldn’t take.
“Without a reason, without a reason! Is it really without a reason? Didn’t he take you from me? Aren’t you two going to get married now? And he didn’t have the balls to tell me?”
“I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how to. Besides, it’s not Chucho’s fault, nor yours. If you want to punish someone, punish me. I knew I was going to hurt you, but I couldn’t avoid it. I love Chucho. I want to be with him for the rest of my life, and there’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”
All of a sudden, pain radiated up my leg and a heavy wetness made my skirt stick to my skin.The red color stained the white cotton, and when I saw it I felt as if I were going to faint. The dance music filled my head with a fast beat that mimicked my racing heartbeat. All of a sudden, the party’s colors became dark and my head filled with silence. The lights, the music, and Juanito’s face were all gone. What happened to me? Did I die? I have no idea.
You did it. You have been successful. Now you can breathe, relax, and start again. You freed yourself from your obsession. After killing her, after seeing the blood, you don’t feel guilty. You feel justified, strong … you finally feel normal. Shouldn’t a person who commits a murder feel guilt or at least sadness? Now, without Marta, you can be happy knowing that she can’t be with Chucho; that no one can be with her. When you see her cold body, you notice the white skirt stained with blood, the bluish sweater you always liked, and the pretty face that just spoke to you as if you were no one, as if you were nothing. Devil, manipulative whore … she deserves it. You don’t care what happens now. Now you can be at peace. Hearing Chucho’s criesfills you with joy. You are so sublimely happy, as happy as a greedy lottery winner.
“Now you can suffer like I have suffered. I am free. I have freed you too. You’ll see. You will see.” Chucho’s face, filled with confusion and pain stares back at you. You turn around and leave the dance. You walk slowly, calmly toward your car. You don’t make it. The police arrive. They attack you and put you in the car to take you to jail. What are you going to tell the judge? The truth? Are you going to make him understand why you killed her–that you had to free the world from this devil.That you murdered a woman who deserved it. You can tell him that she manipulated you, that she has manipulated you for years. Tonight, what she said determined her fate. She chose it. This is her doing.
The crime finally committed, Juanito felt calmed, relaxed, justified. He couldn’t see his actions as those of a crazy, dangerous man. Poor Chucho, he held his beloved thinking he had never met a woman so good, so pretty, so passionate. He had no hopes of finding a similar woman. She was unique, almost a saint in his opinion. He could not understand what had just happened; neither could he find a single flaw in her. It’s true what they say: Love is blind. He hoped Marta did not feel too much pain as she died. He hoped she did not understand what was going on. He did not know that Marta, when she realized she was dying, felt neither pain nor fear: she felt relief, the relief that only a guilty person can feel. She knew she had orchestrated the crime. What Juanito had done was not fair; but it was she who had written the tragedy. She knew hell awaited her, but she did not care, she welcomed it. Her end was the way she wanted it – dramatic, painful, and violent. Committing suicide has never been so easy, so glorious.