An Open Letter to the Man Who Ruined My Life

Jul 11, 2014 by     Comments Off on An Open Letter to the Man Who Ruined My Life    Posted under: Fiction

I hope and pray that this letter finds you in the deepest pits of Hell, for the sin you have committed is unpardonable. I search in my heart for the tiniest grain of compassion, so that I may forgive you for your act of pure hatred and evil, but as I sit here, writing this letter to you, compassion is a luxury I fear I can no longer afford. You already took away my father, showing mercy to you is an invitation for your heartless kind to destroy more innocent families like my own.

I write this letter to you today to make you aware of the consequences of your ungodly actions. Did you ever stop and wonder about the families of the men you were about to take away with you when you strapped that bomb across your chest and walked into a crowded mosque? You didn’t just kill twenty men; you killed the happiness and joy of twenty innocent families. You killed the chances of the children of those twenty men at leading pure and blissful lives. You left me, my three-year old little sister and all those other unsuspecting children orphans. Children who did not realize the finality of the goodbye kiss they gave their fathers in the morning, for that was the last time they would ever see their smiling faces. Our mothers, who grow increasingly reclusive with each passing day, shall never light up with joy when they watch their husbands come home after a long, tiring day. Who we fear shall never be in high spirits again, for their tear-stained faces grow weaker and weaker with each passing day.

You stole the sole breadwinners of many families who now go to bed each night with nothing but an empty stomach and memories of times well spent with their precious loved ones. No longer can they afford to send their children to school because the burden of paying the fee is too much. They could not even bury the ones lost to this heinous tragedy as you made that impossible when you pulled the trigger and blew them up into unrecognizable bits and pieces.

Did none of this come to your mind? Did you not realize the gravity of the situation? Of course you didn’t. Why would you care? These were twenty families that had nothing to do with you. They were just twenty pieces in your wicked game. Your kind says you did it for the greater good, that you shall be rewarded in heaven for your great sacrifice. They say you did it for God. I know God, and how dare you use Him as justification for your immoral actions? He shall never reward the likes of you with eternal happiness. You aren’t a hero. You aren’t a savior. All you are is one thing, a murderer.

You have caused me more sorrow than I ever imagined, made me fall asleep every night on a pillow soaked with tears I shed in the memory of my father. Still, I shall try to rise above the pain you have caused me. I shall try to make my father proud by being the best man I can be and never giving in to the likes of you. I shall rise above for that is what he, the man you so mercilessly killed, taught me. But I do not have it in my grieving heart to forgive you. So I end my letter with this wish; may you never get to set foot in the paradise you so desperately desire and may you spend all of eternity regretting the misery you caused these twenty families. Regret the evil choices you made that ruined the lives of so many who never did any wrong to you.

A boy that misses his father

The Author

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