outside the window like it was in that day when my father was killed. I am sitting near the fireplace trying to warm up my fingers. The fire stubbornly warms the room. Nevertheless, I feel only cold.
I came to that town in purpose to find out answers about the death of my father. The information which I found cruelly changed my life.
All inhabitants had participated in his death somehow. Couple people had planned his murder, couple people had done it, another had kept silence. Even police had done nothing because it had been in deal with citizens.
Why had they killed him? Because he had wanted to open the resort here. He had decided to conclude an arrangement with inhabitants about transferring of their rights to land to him. Instead of living in that town, they would have new apartments in the city near it. Many people had agreed and concluded the arrangement. That people had noticed the little mark in the text later. The mark had meant that people were obligated to pay to my father for the apartments they would live in. They had thought he had made fool of them. But my father had not tricked them. Their inattention had been the reason of their failure. They had come to my father, but he had said that the contracts were legal.
People had planned to lure my father from the house and made him go far from the centre of the town. There had been the snowy storm and contacts with another cities had broken. My father hadn`t known how to call for help.
Inhabitant had killed him and staged his death as an accident. They had lied that there had been no arrangement. Unfortunately for them, they had decided to make copies of the contract and kept it to make sure that nobody of them would tell the true. But I found one of them. Ironically, by that documents I was the owner of their town.
When I found the pieces of the death of my father something covered my mind with darkness. It was hate and wish of revenge. I detested the town.
Hate had tentacles by which it strongly stuck to my heart. It gave me energy to breathe, move, survive and keep my temper waiting for the time of my revenge. Hate gave me the purpose, the sense of life. I wanted to destroy this town with all its inhabitants. I needed to make them suffer. So hate acquainted me with its friends. I used slyness, force, rudeness, fear, scheming, gossips and so on. I made the people argue with each other. I made them suspect each other. I made them betray each other. My hate widely spreaded among all inhabitants of my town.
My feelings blinded me. Now I understand that hate is the witch which transformed me into the monster. I understand, but it is too late. Hate opened the gates in the prison of my sins. I acted awfully. I was used to enjoy the way I made people suffer. And even knowledge that I did something which amorally and brutally hurt another person did not stop me from act like I did again and again. And all time I got pleasure of my crimes. Hate filled all my thoughts by itself, misrepresented facts and changed me. It wore me out.
I am smiling at the moment. The wind is desperately trying to come inside the room. Logs crack in the fireplace. I am trying to warm up my fingers. The blood of inhabitants I have killed still covers it.
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