Luna Cantillo Valeria, Love Is The Most Dangerous Weapon

LOVE IS THE MOST DANGEROUS WEAPON

Written by Valeria Luna Cantillo

Frightened, I just waited for the cops. I didn’t regret it at that moment, consequences chased me after, and finally, I suffered. My heart almost stopped, I couldn’t breathe and I felt like drowning, everything froze and my worst nightmare turned into reality. Cops didn’t scare me, I was my self-demon, my self-boundaries vanished and I barely recognized myself. I knew what was waiting for me. I knew that love is always an excuse for hurting people. My destiny is unwritten but is quite predictable, my life has become a nightmare, the orange suit has become a part of my life and the metal bars are the only view I have every day. Living in jail is tough but I am the only responsible for my actions. Just one word, one act, one moment, one thought changed the path of my life and brought me to this hideous monster.

Time seems to stay still, minutes are like hours and seconds became eternity, and the only thing my head seems to be able to play over and over is our first encounter, the day I learned about love. Time flies like in the blink of an eye, one minute we were introducing ourselves, the next I was getting a pregnancy test, and now he no longer amounts from the living. The second I saw him, standing there, so still but at the same time so relaxed, when he blinked at me, that little smile he gave me while sun rays lighted his face, in that second something inside me changed, my heart started to beat differently, and life changed of color. I’m unable to explain the true meaning of love, but I can assure you that I loved him till the point it made me sick, or crazy, or both.

The clock tickled, It was 6 pm, the sky was bloody red, with a glint of orange and stains of pink. Belatedly after; the clock tickled again at 7 pm, the stars were starting to rise along with the moonlight, and silence fulfilled the room, and finally the clock tickled at 8 pm and it was fully dark. He was supposed to arrive at this restaurant before the sunset, but he

was late, he was always late. On the night of our anniversary, he didn’t show up on time, as usual. He was always like that, he entrapped me with his smile to forgive him but this night was different. I was not going to wait for him anymore, I’m not anyone’s puppet to play around with, I was not going to forgive him again, the clown make up he drew on my face finally fade, his charm didn’t work on me anymore, maybe I was wiser, maybe I was just mad and the anger will pass, but surely I was done. Our relationship was useless due to the lack of time and interest, he had for us.

Many thoughts flooded through my head at that moment. A breakup, fight, tears, anger, knives, and, murder. I couldn’t control myself, my senses were useless and untrustworthy. Even though there was a deafening silence, many voices reached out to me, or maybe it was the echo of my thoughts planning regretful ideas. I was unable to understand what was happening, my mind was playing games, but I wasn’t a player. Things didn’t make sense, one minute my late father arrived with my childhood’s favorite chocolate as he used to, and the next thing I know I was standing in front of the mirror, and instead of my reflection, I saw my sister who lived thousands of miles away, until finally, my husband arrived. Everything was a fairytale, I ran as fast as I could to hold him, kiss him, hug him and tell him I loved him, but when I was missing just a few steps he vanished, he wasn’t there and my anger was imminent.

It was the first time in my life I felt that way, the first time I didn’t want to see him, and the very first time murder was an option. I didn’t pay attention to the voice in my head who was warning me. I just let the anger control my body and prepare myself for letting it all out before his arrival. Being late was not a reason for killing the love of my life, my husband. There was not a valid excuse for doing such a crime. Thus, I wasn’t able to think about it at that moment.

One hundred and twenty minutes later I decided to get out of the restaurant and head back home. The cold, dark, and lonely street looked like a perfect crime scene and that indeed scared me, but at the same time amazed me. Before I entered the house I saw his car parked in the backyard. “He had been at home all this time” I murmured with anger, the walk back home took so long, I had had plenty of time to plan everything, I thought about;

“What if I strangle him? , or maybe stab him in his heart, the minute I saw him? or maybe; I should wait when he fell asleep and move his body into the woods where nobody will ever find him? or should I just do it in the kitchen?”

Every scenario seemed like a good option for me. and finally; I concluded that stabbing a knife across his chest would be easy and then I would bury the body in the woods, then let my son know that his father had abandoned him because he found a new family, it was a perfect plan to turn my son against him and for him not to ever ask why. then after this, we would both move to Berlin. The plan sounded plausible. I entered the house and went to the attic, he was there.

Frightened, I just waited for the cops. I could barely see myself in the mirror full of blood and fear, my hands were shaking and I couldn’t breathe. My plans changed at the moment when I saw the dead body of my husband. However, I blamed myself for everything and that’s why I am here today. I am guilty and nobody can change that. When I entered the house my heart stopped beating and I paralyzed, I was in shock and didn’t have time to think about what to do with his body, seeing him there, laying down so peacefully but covered in blood gave me goosebumps, my face turned red of anger, then purple because I couldn’t even breathe, the green of disgust and finally with the undeniable shock I was in, and I stood there, appreciating the beauty of the scene, it

was well-premeditated no one could tell who did it, so I just stared, at him, at the blood, and my reflection. When I heard the siren I knew time was limited and I wasn’t going to clean my name so easy if I stayed there, there was nothing I could do. At that moment I decided to accept guiltiness, what else could I say, It was too late.

I didn’t kill the love of my life. When I entered the home he was already dead, he was laid down as if he was asleep, the difference was all the blood spread throughout the room, the smell that advised dead, and the coldness in his hands. The saddest part, Is that his car had been there from 4 pm and I arrived home at 5 pm. Destiny has a funny way to play with people, I waited for him in the restaurant while he waited for me at home, he died thinking I stood him up, while I was planning his murder because I felt stood up. But even worst, meanwhile, I was planning the murder of my husband someone else was one step ahead of me. I don’t know who killed him, I just know now that he left my heart is an empty shell, I finally realized that I built a tsunami in a glass of water and what is left is a huge sea, that’s why nobody ever believed my innocence because the police found me with a knife used to kill my husband, I had taken off his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. His death was my fault, I wasn’t there for him and he needed me, maybe if I knew better I could have remembered that we were meant to meet at home at 04:00 pm and not at the restaurant.

I blamed myself for his death and took the guilty plea, I thought; maybe; “It was destined to happen like that, maybe it was a horrible faith written through the stars that nobody could have changed, written with indelible blood even before we were born, even before we met and fell in love?” Whichever reason if it is that way there was nothing I could do. Nevertheless, I never got over the fact that; the real guilty

murder of my late husband was still out there, enjoying his life while I am serving life in this maximum-security prison.

Time has passed, months or years maybe, I lost the counts of how long I have been living in this tiny cell where you can’t tell if it is a day or night. it is hard not to face your reality when all you have is your past time and thoughts. Even though time has passed it feels like it was yesterday, I have vivid dreams where I can’t tell if it’s real or not, every night I wake up at midnight screaming, crying, and terrified because every night I relive once again my worst nightmare.

Mondays are usually visiting days, but no one had ever visited, I thought I was dead for the rest of the world, but this particular Monday, the guard told me that I had a visitor, I exited the cell as I head towards the visiting room for the first time, the guard removed the handcuffs and instructed me the rules and guiles of visiting, some of them were;

No physical contact. No food. Do not receive nor exchange any items, etc...

I was excited and yet nervous about who could have visited a wife that killed her husband in a cold blood after I was allowed to sit down, I looked across the door and noticed my son walking towards me, he had gotten bigger and to my surprise, his face reminded me so much of his late father, their resemblance had me in shock and I wanted to hug him so tight but I wasn’t allowed to engage in physical contact, Then I noticed that there was something different with him, the light he used to have in his eyes was lost, there isn’t even a little bit left behind, the smile he used to wear in his face was faded, and his presence was ambiguous, he used to fill the room with light and now the room was filled with darkness, I knew something was different, a mother can always tell.

There was an ominous silence in the room, no one talked,

we just stared at each other, mainly because there were so many things I wanted to tell him that I didn’t even know where I should have started, I tried to ignore that painful foreboding I had, I knew he wasn’t here because he wanted to see me, he hated me, I killed his father, how he could not. I was about to start talking when he broke into tears, he was suffocating and unable to talk, the only thing he was able to pronounce was sorry, he begged for forgiveness when I should have been the one asking for mercy, so I said;

“Please; don’t be sorry, there’s nothing I have to forgive you for.”

Some minutes later, when he was a little bit calmer my son replied.

“Yes I do, this is all my fault mom, I ruined your life, our life.”

“It’s not your fault, I’m here because of me, I’m paying the wrong I’ve done for taking your father away from you, and I must face the consequence.”

“Stop lying, you didn’t kill him and you know that very well” he shouted at me.

“I’m not lying sweetie, it’s time for you to embrace the truth.”

“Stop it. I killed him, and I surely don’t regret killing my father, the only thing I regret is ruining your life.”

My world froze for a minute, those words entered like a knife directly to my chest, and I couldn’t breathe, my heart ached and everything went black, my mind disconnected from reality and I refused to accept what my son said.

“I killed him, there’s no doubt I killed him, I just did it, and everyone knows it.” He added. and the asked; “Mom?”

“Uh?” I responded while in shock and trying to process this information.

“Are you okay?” He asked again.

“Don’t you ever dare repeat those words, I did it, I killed him, you did not” This time I was shouting too.

The guards told us to keep the voice down or the meeting would be over. and he lowered his voice and say;

“Mom I need you to listen, please, I’m sorry, but I can’t keep it as a secret anymore, please read this to understand what happened the evening of February the 14 th .”

While I was still in shock, He handed me a folded paper under the table surreptitiously, that he had inside his pocket, it was crumbled and dirty, as if he had written it a long time ago but didn’t have the guts to deliver. When he passed it to me he grabbed my hand so tight and kiss it, then he exited the visiting room immediately. The guards accompanied me back to my cell where I opened the letter and noticed that it was old, nevertheless, it had two different inks, the first one was faded and kind of erased, and the second one that was at the end of the letter was still fresh, and still wet as if it had been written just a couple of minutes ago.

I started to read the letter; Sunday 26 of May 2019 Dear mom,

I don’t know exactly how or where to start, I’m not even sure I’ll ever deliver this, but what you told me once was true, secrets do kill you, they murder you slowly and love to watch you suffer. I’ve been in pain, everything aches and I’m unable to forgive myself for putting you through this.

There isn’t an accurate reason, nor an acceptable excuse for what I did, I was just done, I was tired, I couldn’t watch him and pretend I loved him anymore. I was tired of the screams, I wanted to shut him off, I couldn’t resist more hits, my whole body was covered with bruises, I became a universe full of colors that shouldn’t be there, but most of all I was tired of the constant reminder that none of you ever wanted me, that I ruined your lives, that I’m just a horrible mistake.

His words “I don’t love you, I wish you were never born, undoubtedly you are my worst mistake” became a constant melody That I wished I’d never heard, even now, a year and a half later he still haunts me, his words are still like a nailed dagger in an open wound that still bleeds.

For me it was a normal day, I didn’t even know it was your anniversary, I arrived home after school and he was waiting, his welcome home was a hot metal in my arm, from which I still have a scar, and I exploded, next thing I know I was over him, stabbing him multiples times, I couldn’t stop, it was like someone was taking control and even though I tried I couldn’t regain it. If I’m being sincere it wasn’t fully me, yes it was my hands that grabbed the knife and killed him, but I didn’t decide, I wasn’t in my five senses, anger issues are everyone’s worst enemy, are everyone’s devil, and the devil ruined our family. After that I just ran and hid, I was in shock and lost my ability to speak, next thing I know you were in jail after accepting the guilt, and I didn’t have the guts to see you in the eyes and accept what I did nor lie in your face, so I decided to back off.

I’m sorry but I can’t stand it anymore, By the time you finish this letter, I will be gone forever, murder has to be paid with murder, and it’s time for me to die, I love you and always will, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

With love, your son.

A few minutes later while processing this information, the guard knocked in my cell to inform that the warden wanted to speak with me, as I was accompanied to his office, the fear took over me, and the warden informed that I had an urgent call when I picked up the phone, the only thing they said “Jason Hunter committed suicide, time of death: 14:21, we mourn the loss of your son Miss, Scarlett Shreya, we would like you to come and identify the corpse of the deceit to provide the death certificate, the transportation has been arranged for you outside” another part of me died at that moment.