A veteran of some foreign war,

mind bent from things a man should not see.

Only with a bottle of Jack D

could he come close to feeling free.

 

It was only when you're old will you start remembering things that you'd dearly love to forget.

 

The bullet from his revolver pierced through the the silent night into the chest of a shivering man huddled over his family.

 

An agonising scream reverberated through the darkness.

 

Then all went silent.

 

Kris woke up from his slumber, cold sweat dripping from his forehead. Those heartwrenching memories from his younger days were back to haunt him. Clutching the bottle of wine tightly in his hand, he shook his head profusely.

 

“NO. Please, no.”The woman begged, tears streaming down her cheeks as she shielded her daughter with her feeble arms. Her husband lay dead by her side, blood gushing out from his wound and staining her white dress cerise red.

 

Such brightness. It hurt his eyes at that moment, and his heart for a long time to come.

 

Silently shaking his head, he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

 

Bang.

 

And all was quiet again.

 

“,” the old man said, taking a large mouthful of alcohol. The liquid burned his throat and stung his eyes, but it numbed his senses and his antecedent accelerated heartbeat gradually returned to normal.

 

We all have monsters in our heads, and sometimes, they take over.

 

Could not hold a job, tried over and over again.

Failed and fell lower every day,

wondered if he was punished for his sin.

 

“I'm sorry, but you aren't hired,” the clerk replied, an apologtic smile plastered on her face. Kris cursed under his breath. His 56^th rejection. Squatting on the curb of the road, he lit a cigar and inhaled deeply.

Reality had slapped him hard. An honorary officer? Bull. Having medals on your soldier uniform wouldn't get you anywhere. It wouldn't bring you a job. It wouldn't bring you money. It wound't bring bread to your family.

 

Kris' eyes watered as he thought of his wife at home. She was such a beautiful lady, despite having to be clad in old tattered clothes. Albeit their financial situation, the gleam never left her eyes and a genuine smile was permenantly etched on her face like breadcrumbs on a toddler's lips. She would his head gently as he lay on her lap in dejection, consoling him in her sacchariferous voice that everything would be alright.

 

He believed in her, just like how she believed in him.

 

“Tae....” He moaned, leaning against the hard cement wall. His gaze fell onto his hands. They were calloused and dry with scar marks all over.

 

It was the same pair of hands that had been stained with blood a year back, as he pulled the trigger of the revolver continuously at innocent villagers.

 

“I've sinned,” Kris muttered quietly, “And I shall be punished.”

 

He did not want to kill those folks,

did not want to take another human life.

He would write long letters home,

but kept the worst things from his wife.

 

“The war should be ending soon, I hope to be able to embrace you and plant chaste kisses on your forehead again. All is well here, don't worry about me. Take care of yourself and look forward to my return.”

 

Taeyeon smiled gracefully as she folded the letter. It had been Kris' 2^nd letter of the week and from the looks of it, he should be coming home soon.

 

“My husband,” she said in pride before succumbing to drowsiness, “Is the best soldier ever.”

 

On the battlefield, Kris's hand shook a little as he raised his revolver at a scrawny, malnutritioned girl.

 

Bang.

 

And she lay quietly on the floor, her blood blossoming like a flower against the snowy, winter day.

 

One day he wandered away

to who knows where...he could not remember.

Until he grew old and alcoholic,

sleeping on a park bench one freezing December.

 

“Tae, my biggest regret in life, was leaving you,” the old man slurred as he gulped down the bottle of alcohol as if it was water.

 

One day he couldn't stand it anymore.

 

His wife was a lovely lady, but he was nothing but a jobless sinner. She deserved so much better, but there was nothing he could do to provide her with a better life.

 

“I'm sorry, Tae,” Kris whispered as he her angelic sleeping face. She was no longer young; time had taken away her radiance and in its place was a rather weatherbeaten face with small creases creeping up the the corners of her eyes. However, she was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen and his heart ached at the prospect of leaving her.

 

“Love someone better. Someone who deserves you more than me.”

 

Hurriedly throwing his belongings into an old canvas bag, he left the house as fast as he could without a second glance.

 

He couldn't turn back.

 

And hence, he became a wanderer (a fancier word to describe a homeless man).

 

“Tae, after so many years, you're still the only one in my heart.” The delibitated man sighed, tears trickling down his cheeks. Crouching on the park bench with a bottle of alcohol by his side, the man could only express his utmost remorse and heartache to the shining stars above.

 

The cold winter wind blew, like a silent mourn for what he had lost.

 

Choices are an inevitable part of our lives. But sometimes we make the wrong decisions and we regret our mistakes.

 

And it's too late to turn back time.

 

The angel of death took pity on his plight,

scooped him up in bony arms

and took him in the cold of night.

 

The bright illumination hurt his eyes.

 

Opening them slowly, Kris found himself in a person's arms. She was wearing a plain white robe and bore a serene yet solemn expression on her face.

 

“Before you ask, I'm the angel of death, and I'm here to take you away.”

 

Kris nodded. His time was up. It was time for him to repent for his past mistakes and pay the price of his lifelong sins.

 

“Take me to hell, angel. It's where I belong.”

 

“No, you're going to heaven.”

 

“W-whut?”

 

“You don't really have a choice, you know,” the angel said, a faraway look on her face, “A few years back, your wife exchanged her entrance to heaven to yours. She said that you didn't have a choice but to commit those sins, and you deserve better in your afterlife.”

 

Kris felt his world crumbling. Oh, his sweet, sweet wife!

 

“In case you're wondering how she's doing... Look over there.”

 

He looked in the direction of the angel's point. Sure indeed, his wife was sitting on a scorching hot fireplace with chains and locks all around her body. However, what struck him was that familiar sedate, loving smile on her face.

 

Like always, she believed in him.

 

It was only then did Kris realise that his greatest sin in life was not to the victims that he had killed, but to the one woman that loved him dearly with her heart and soul...