Don't Sugarcoat Sins

I punched the man to the ground. He screamed in pain, and I pounced on him and kicked him hard in the temple!

That was what I always did. When I was sure that my opponent was dangerous, I would beat him until he could not resist before I stopped.

Once I softened, I would be the one paying the price!

The man screamed again. I grabbed him by the hair and smashed his head against the wall.

He pulled out a sharp knife in pain and tried to stab me. I saw the knife coming towards me and elbowed him in the arm.

That way, no matter how hard he tried, the knife couldn't hurt me.

At the same time, I began to observe the man.

Armed with a weapon, he was wearing gloves.

The gloves were pure white, with almost no dust on them.

That meant he wasn't wearing them for work, but for a premeditated crime, so he wouldn't leave his fingerprints.

All the signs showed that he was a wicked man!

I gave him a hard squeeze on the arm, and his knife fell to the ground. Then I put his hands behind him and pinned him to the ground with my knee against his spine.

He tried to fight back. I felt his strength and pressed my body against him. Then I lifted my knee and hit him hard in the ribs!

"Bang! Bang!"

Every time I hit him, I heard a dull thud. The pain was too great for him to scream. At last, he had no strength left to fight back.

I took off his belt, pressed his hands behind his back, and tied his wrists tight.

Then he could no longer resist.

But I was still worried.

Once I struck, I would be cautious enough not to give my opponent any chance to counterattack.

Many of the old buildings there had been torn down. I picked up a stone and hit him hard on his calf bone!

After hitting him several times and making sure he couldn't move, I finally dropped the stone.

I breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to the girl. I pulled the towel out of her mouth and asked if she was all right.

The girl was so frightened that she could not speak. She just sobbed beside me.

I comforted her, telling her not to be afraid. Then I took out my phone and wondered if I should call the police.

I had a problem.

If I called the police, how should I explain it to them?

It was a desolate place. People who lived there had to travel a long way to buy groceries. What would I say if the police asked me why I was there?

I was a murderer. I had to think carefully before I did anything.

Just then, the man spoke. He begged me not to call the police and to let him off.

I looked at him coldly. I was about to say something when he said, "Please. I just got out of prison. If I go in there again, I'm screwed! I'll do anything for you if you let me go!"

I was stunned.

He just got out of prison?

...

Suddenly, my phone rang.

I took it out and found it was a call from the mystery woman.

When I answered the phone, I heard her voice. "Well, did you find anything?"

"I met a son of a bitch who tried to bully a girl. I just beat him up," I answered.

"As expected of you. I heard you were the best fighter in the academy, but it was a shame that you became a traffic cop later. The man in front of you is the kind of person you hate the most," the woman said.

"What do you mean?"

"You can take a picture of him and try Googling it. Today is May 7th, and the report about him came out on May 5th. You should be able to find it. I'm hanging up."

Confused, I pulled out my phone, took a picture of the man, and tried Googling it.

I really found a report.

"Eight Years Ago, He Was Jailed for Rape, Eight Years Later He Had Nothing."

I frowned at the report.

"Paul Kersey, male, born in 1991, raped a woman in 2012. Due to his cruel means, he was sentenced to eight years in prison.

"Before Paul committed the crime, people remembered him as an ambitious young man. No one could believe he would do such a thing.

"In the eyes of his parents, he was a filial and ambitious child. In the eyes of his friends, he was an honest man.

"When I first met him, I thought he was a shy, big boy. He didn't talk much, but I could feel his kindness. What set him on such a path?

"His childhood was miserable."

Those words made my stomach turn.

The report included a photo of the reporter and Paul.

I looked at the girl next to me. Although she was in tears, it was not hard to recognize her as the reporter in the picture!

I went over to her, crouched down, and said, "Are you Adeline Lawson, the reporter for this story? I really don't like journalists who romanticize criminals. Every time I read this kind of report, I just feel sick. You said he was a good boy in the eyes of his parents and an honest man in the eyes of his friends, trying to figure out why he turned to crime. Come on, take a look. Take a closer look."

I pointed to Paul, who was gasping for breath on the ground, and said softly, "Look at him. Why did you think he was honest? Don't sugarcoat sins. Too many people in this world have had miserable childhoods, and everyone is struggling to get by. How does that serve as something to romanticize criminals? Now, look at what you've written, and then look closely at his face."

Adeline kept shedding tears. I untied her. At once she wiped her eyes, covered her mouth, and burst into tears.

I stood up and walked over to Paul. I searched him carefully and found the tape and a syringe.

I carefully read the report.

Eight years ago, Paul kidnapped a woman, bound her hands and feet, made her kneel on the ground, then threatened her with a syringe, and forced her to obey his orders.

I kicked him in the head and said coldly, "On your knees and stomach."

He didn't want to do what I said, so I picked up the syringe and aimed it at his eye.

I showed no mercy. I put the tip of the syringe on his eyelid, leaving a blood stain. The needle was so close to his eyeball.

"Is that how you threatened that woman?" I muttered. "How do you feel now that this has happened to you?"

Paul cried, trembling with fear, unable to utter a complete word.

There was some unknown liquid in the syringe. I pressed the syringe, and the liquid spurted out, sprinkling on his eye.

He was so scared that he trembled again and wet his pants.

"Are you scared? She was scared, too. Now on your knees and stomach. Do what she did back then."

Paul kept begging me for mercy. He was on his knees, rubbing his forehead against the ground because his hands were tied behind his back. He half turned his face and gave me a pleading look as he said, "I... I was wrong."

"You are not aware of your fault. You are just afraid that you will be punished. Your apology is a lie to avoid punishment."

I lifted my foot and stepped on his head, murmuring, "You hurt that innocent woman. She was the beloved daughter of her parents, the love of her husband, and perhaps even the sacred mother of a child. She lived a wonderful life, and you ruined it because of your desires.

"You went to jail. That's where people pay their taxes to build. People feed the dirtiest people like you with their hard-earned money so that criminals can clean up their acts and have a second chance. But have you turned over a new leaf? Do you really know you were wrong?"

I dropped the syringe.

The syringe went into his shoulder, and he screamed in pain. "I was wrong! Please let me go!"

I turned a deaf ear to his pleas for mercy. I kicked him hard in the face and shouted angrily, "Begging me to let you go? I'm sure that woman begged you eight years ago, and this woman must have begged you, too. Did you let them go? You're unmerciful, but you expect others to be kind to you. Stop daydreaming!"

Paul cried and said, "I thought she was into me! She'd been nice to me since I was released from prison. I thought she liked me."

Adeline's face grew paler. She trembled all over and clenched her fists.

"Did you see that?" I sneered. "This is what happens when you give care to a bad guy. Why don't you care about the victim instead of the criminal?"

Anger was spreading inside me.

Another one who refused to correct his mistake and committed another crime.

What exactly did the innocent do wrong?

Why should such people be allowed to live in this world?

The image of Jacob's body suddenly came to my mind.

Paul deserved to die, too.

Suddenly, a dog barked in the distance.

It was Mojo.

I sobered up with a start. Now was not the time to make a move.

There was someone else there. My wife told me not to be careless at any time. I had to remember my mistakes.

She didn't do it so I could kill someone, though.

If I wanted to kill Paul, I couldn't have a witness around. I had to swallow my anger.

I sighed and went over to Adeline, saying, "Call the police, but don't talk to anyone about me. Just say I'm a good Samaritan, okay?"

She stared at me blankly and nodded at last.

"Well, I'll stay here and protect you until the police get close."

Trembling, Adeline took out her phone, ready to call the police.

...

Suddenly, she jerked her head up and exclaimed, "Watch your back!"

I had a bad feeling, but instead of looking back, I gave it a back-kick!

If I had turned around and reacted, it would have been too late!

I kicked something and heard a muffled groan from behind me. When I turned around, I saw Paul on the ground, unbound, with the sharp knife in his hand.

How was that possible? I tied him up just now!

I stared at him, only to find that his left hand was missing.

It fell to the ground where he had been bound.

An artificial limb?

No wonder he broke free.

When I saw him wearing gloves, I thought he was trying to hide his fingerprints, but it turned out he was also trying to hide his prosthetic left hand.

He writhed on the ground in agony, unable to get up.

I didn't go near him because he still had the knife in his hand.

I had to be cautious. I couldn't be stupid enough to approach someone with a knife.

So I picked up the stone, ready to throw it at him, but he suddenly spat blood.

I froze.

Would my kick be so powerful?

He vomited more and more blood until he tilted his head and stopped moving.

How could that be?

I suspected he was trying to trick me. After a moment's hesitation, I threw the stone at his face.

But he didn't react at all. He didn't look alive.

I cautiously approached him, picked up the stone again, and hit him hard on the finger.

The knife fell to the ground. I quickly kicked it aside and carefully observed him.

He really didn't seem to be breathing.

Puzzled, I turned him over.

There was a stone slab in the ruins.

A bar of steel stood upright on the slab. It went into his back when he fell!

I gasped at the sight.

I killed someone in the presence of a witness!

For a moment, my mind was in a whirl. I squeezed my hand hard and took deep breaths to calm myself down.

I couldn't panic. I had to calm down and find a solution!

Adeline walked up to Paul in a daze. When she found him dead, she asked in fear, "Shall... shall we call the police?"

I forced a smile and said, "What would you do if I said I couldn't call the police for some reason?"

I couldn't call the police.

I could have just left, but now that Paul was dead, the police would be there looking into his death.

It was not that I didn't trust that mystery woman, but I wanted to hold my fate firmly in my hands!

And after subduing Paul, we stayed where we were, instead of running away from the scene. I even tortured him. The law wouldn't protect me.

What if the court didn't think I acted in self-defense and found me guilty?

Adeline looked down at Paul in fear, but seconds later, she did something I didn't expect.

She bent down and caught hold of Paul's body, trying to drag it outside.

But it was too heavy for a girl like her.

So she looked at me with pleading eyes and said, "There's a dilapidated house nearby. It's his home. It will be demolished in a few days."

I was stunned.

It did say in the report that Paul got out of prison eight years later with nothing.

That was because he came home from prison, only to find that his old house was about to be demolished, but his uncle took his compensation.

That was the meat of the report, describing Paul's abjection and fickleness of human relationships.

"He has a well in his yard," Adeline said.

"Are you trying to help me?" I asked.

Adeline dragged Paul's body and said in a trembling voice, "You... you're my hero. You saved me."

I gritted my teeth, and we moved Paul into the old house.

We came to the backyard and saw a well.

"There was no running water here back then, so the old people had the habit of digging wells. Well digging was very popular in those days, and Paul's father had also dug a well. Unfortunately, there was running water two years later. He told me all this when I interviewed him," said Adeline.

In the corner of the yard, there was a rusty bucket, apparently unused for years.

I took the bucket to check. The length of the rope on it indicated that it was a deep well. It was estimated to be more than 40 yards deep.

Where groundwater was abundant, there was water at a depth of a dozen yards, but not every piece of land had enough groundwater. There didn't seem to be much water down there.

"Don't you regret doing this?" I asked.

"He was a bad guy, and you saved me." Adeline wiped away her tears and pushed Paul into the well. "You saved me so that I could feel the pain of the victim, and I regret writing that report. My life would be ruined without you. You are my hero."

I grabbed Paul. Worried that he would get stuck in the well, I put his legs into the well. Then I dropped him into the well at a vertical angle to make sure he reached the bottom.

The well was so dark that one could not see into it.

I picked up a larger stone and dropped it.

If Paul was stuck halfway, the stone wouldn't hit the water.

Soon I heard a splash from below.

"He fell to the bottom. We just have to bury this well next. Wait here while I get some dirt," I said.

Adeline nodded repeatedly.

She and I were going to sink or swim together.

I went to a flower market to buy soil for planting flowers. I knew cement worked best. Wells in many places these days were sealed with cement.

The problem was, sealing the well with cement would make it look too new. It was a dilapidated house. I didn't want anyone to notice anything unusual.

Mojo was well-behaved all the way. I bought four sacks of soil, asked the shop owner for many of his old sacks, and bought two large buckets of mineral water.

When I got back, I cleaned up Paul's blood with mineral water and a towel to make sure there were no obvious traces of death.

I was cleaning carefully when I heard voices in the distance. It turned out to be some passing workers.

Their appearance startled me. I cleaned up the blood, but there was blood on the towel!

I quickly threw the towel into a nearby house and pretended to be drinking water.

They saw me, but fortunately, I did not arouse their suspicion.

I looked back at the dilapidated house. It was probably going to be torn down soon, so no one would be there, and the towel would be buried in the ruins.

I acted as if nothing had happened and walked for a while. After the workers left, I collected a lot of gravel and put it in the old sacks.

Back in the yard, I first poured the gravel and then half a bag of soil into the well.

I repeat it a few times.

Adeline stood next to me and watched me, trembling as she spoke. "Paul had been in prison for eight years, and he had no friends. The only person he contacted was his uncle, but his uncle took his compensation and went into hiding. I'm sure no one will think of him after he goes missing."

I looked over my shoulder at Adeline. "Are you frightened?"

"Aren't you afraid? It's murder!" Adeline said.

"I don't care."

"Why? Aren't you afraid to pay with your life for a murder? I don't think you're going to pay with your life, but you killed someone!"

I emptied the last half bag of dirt and said quietly, "I did not kill a man, but something worse than a beast."

She stared at me blankly.

Then she cast a vicious look at the well and said through gritted teeth, "You're right. He was a beast!"

I patted the dust off my body. It was getting dark. I had to tidy myself up for the evening meeting with William.

Adeline suddenly asked me, "May I have your contact information?"

"Leave your contact information and you can go. Keep your mouth shut. No one cares that Paul is missing. If we don't say anything, no one will find out."

Adeline nodded and handed me a business card with her number on it.

She was a reporter for the City Daily.

I put away her card and said, "You're good to go."

"May I know your name?"

"Go now."

She was disappointed but ran away with a frightened look on her face.

I sighed deeply and called the mystery woman.

The woman answered the phone.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" I asked.

"What?"

"Didn't you expect everything? Is there anything you want to tell me this time?"

After a moment's silence, she said, "What did you do?"

"I have nothing to hide from you. Paul Kersey is dead."

"I see. Just a moment."

I heard her tapping away at her computer.

After a while, she said, "Don't worry. You'll be fine this time. In addition, from today on, my life is yours. With my help, you'll be invincible. Just do whatever you want."

She hung up again. I didn't quite understand what she was saying.

I picked up the card and looked at it again. I only had a cursory look at it before. When I looked at it carefully, I was dumbstruck.

The phone number on the card turned out to be that of the mystery woman!