Culpa Believe nothing you hear and only one half that you see. E. A. Poe I woke up early as usual. My morning routine doesn't hold much: get dressed, wash my face, a cup of tea and I'm ready to go. Half a year had passed after my wife's death. For the past six months, I have been taking antidepressants as my doctor had been suggesting. Don't get me wrong. I was not going to kill myself or anything; I just needed some help, that's all. Thankfully, after half a year of belly full of pills, I was finally feeling better. The morning that day was outstandingly serene, almost too much and I remember thinking to myself that no other morning could be so suitable for working on the illustrations for a new book, called "Reflection: mind and soul". Yeah, I know, cringey as hell, but at least this job was putting food on my table, and that was all, that mattered. Besides, illustrating books was the only thing I was doing ok. Soon after I finished my tea, I gathered all my stuff and was ready to leave for the office. But the story is not about my work at all. The story is about a weirdo who would constantly follow me. I first noticed him in the subway. He was sitting right in front of me looking at me hardly ever blinking. I remember thinking then "what a weird look you have buddy, looks like someone's got a problem with the bottle, eh?" I mean he looked like a sot from an old Irish novel. And it wasn't because of the way he looked, no, not at all. It was his eyes, his wrinkled face, and the air of sorrow he had about him. I almost felt sorry for him, but it was my stop and I had to go. I would be sorry for him from the impression I had of him, but the things changed completely when I saw him in the office. Yes, right where I work. I came and sat at my desk and there he was, watching me, still with the same stare. I pretended as if I took no notice of him, turned on the screen of my computer, and started my work. The day went by pretty well. I did a lot of good work and was pleased with how it all turned out. However, my joy didn't last for long. Guess what. That weirdo was still following me in the subway on my way back home. And that goddamn moron couldn't think of anything better than to just come and sit in front of me again. The light was flickering and in the rapid succession of light and dark, his face seemed all distorted and surreal. This unnerved me and I started panicking, so when I was passing the jewelry store near my house I decided to stop and pretend as if I was looking at something in the show-case but in the meantime try and see if he was still following me. He was. Moreover, he was close. I was genuinely frightened and so I ran. I ran until I reached the front door of my house. Glancing over my shoulder, I was trying to find the keys in my pocket. And so, when I finally did, I got into the house, locked the door and... And I was petrified by what I saw. There he was again, right in my anteroom. He was silent, but this time there was terror in his eyes. He was breathing heavily, I thought he must have run after me, but even then, I couldn't understand how he could get into the house before me. I broke the silence, "Why are you following me?" cried I almost out of my breath. He was silent, was looking at me with tearing eyes full of horror. "What do you want from me?" cried I. He stood silently there for a moment and then whispered "Lisa". I shuddered as if a cold autumn breeze rushed through the hallway touching my face... Just like her fingers. I came to myself and cried, "What do you even know about her?" even louder bursting out of tears. "You don't know anything about her. I... I was beside her when she was going through it all, I was trying to be there for her, not you." I felt as if drowning but went on crying "You, you sick bastard, you were leaving her there in her sad and terrible hospital room and coming here... you were drinking all night, hoping it would help her. Did it, I am asking you, did it? Tell me, why don't u say anything?" I couldn't shout anymore and my voice was reduced to rattling sounds "You did that, you let her die alone." I thought I would drown in my tears but then I looked at him again. He was all in tears and was looking at me desperately. I felt the hate rise in me, burning like a fire that no number of tears could put out. I hated him so much, and so I couldn't help myself. I leaped close to him and punched him straight into his face. A loud noise almost deafened me. I fell on the floor not being able to control myself. The next morning, I woke up not as usual. I found myself lying on the floor with dried blood on my hands and amidst the shards of a broken mirror.