I remember now. I can see it all. I can see my past through the eyes of my younger self. I was born to a working class family. I had two older brothers and a younger sister. We could only eat what we could afford with my parents'' meager salary. Our clothes were hand me downs from better off members of our extended family. However, we lived a happy life. At least we children, ignorant of the world and our surroundings, ran around and played together. Yes we were unfortunate but so was everyone else that we knew. As far as we were concerned everyone was the same as us so we had no reason to be envious. Every day was filled with laughter and fun. Then I started to hear the voices. I began to have night terrors that would wake up the whole house almost on a daily basis. The loudest voice told me I had a destiny, which I would help him bring about the end of human suffering and pain. He informed me that it would be my choice, and not through his force, that would put his plan into motion. He presented to me that choice that would forever change my life. I yelled no. I would not do that. I loved her. What proof was there that what I had to do would truly help everyone else? He left me alone after that. The voices quieted down and I went on with my blissful life after that. Then the man came and said that he was sent here from another place. He begged me to do what I asked to do. He didn’t know what he was asking for only that in doing so I could prevent that which frightened him. I asked him on his relation to that voice in my head and he said that it was something along the lines of ''a necessary evil''. That night, as I laid in my bed without sleep, I asked the voice to come back. I asked him what I had to do and he told me that I only had to hurt her. I cried that I didn’t want her to feel pain, so he told me a different idea instead. He said that this method would hurt me more but it would reduce what she would go through. I did it. I pushed her and off she went. Down to that emptiness, unknowingly done to her by that person she held most dear to her. They went searching for her and when they couldn’t find her they came to me to offer their sympathies. I couldn’t take their words of kindness so I told them what I had done. I went to court where they found me guilty but mentally disturbed so I was not completely at fault. They threw me in a mental hospital where the doctors worked with me for years without success. It was there where I met her. The woman I painted with my blood. It was she who helped me leave that place.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.