The Secret that Tortured My Life

Cynthia stood amidst a crowd of people, tears streaming down her face. She knew her end was near. In just a few minutes, she would be dead-and it would be by her own doing. Clutched in her trembling hand was a piece of paper, worn at the edges, bearing six names. Slowly, deliberately, she went through each one.

Richard-"I killed him horribly," she whispered to herself, "but I had to. The things he did to me were inhuman. He humiliated me beyond words. Even the two knives I drove into his chest weren't enough for the pain he caused."

Nickson-"The Thiodan poison I rubbed on his neck dried out his body from the inside, but even that felt too merciful. A beast like him deserved to be chopped into tiny pieces and cooked alive."

Robertson-"Burning him inside his own house wasn't nearly enough. I wanted to kill him with my own hands. What haunts me most is that I killed his innocent wife and child too. May God forgive me for that sin."

Avith-"His fatal car accident was no accident. I loosened the brakes on his Benz myself and watched him plunge off that bridge. He got what he deserved."

And now...

Larry. "That monster... walking around with his presidential pride, forgetting that my grandfather Damian once ruled this nation too. He has to die today. This ends with him-and with me. I'll finish my mission. I'll wipe out every name on this list, every person who scorched my soul. I never asked to be born with epilepsy, so why did they mock me, break me, crush me so cruelly?"

Cynthia looked down at her body-strapped tightly with five bombs, set to detonate in precisely forty-five minutes. According to the program schedule, at that exact moment, the President would be receiving a ceremonial flower garland from a young girl named Rita. Cynthia was determined to be that girl. She would walk up to Larry, embrace him with a smile, and in one devastating moment, blow them both to pieces.

She didn't want to kill anyone else-only Larry. Her rage was personal. The pain he had caused her back in the jungles of Vietnam, where he had abandoned her to suffer unspeakable horrors, haunted her every waking moment. If she were captured, she knew what awaited her-Dr. Ian and the torture chambers. Death by explosion was mercy in comparison.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Cynthia spotted the young girl designated to honor the President. She was walking toward the nearby restroom.

Cynthia followed.

Inside the small, dimly-lit restroom, she caught up to the girl. Pretending to be just another guest, she acted as if she needed to use the toilet. But then, without warning, she forced a chloroform-laced cloth-Ethyl, her sleeping agent-onto the girl's face. Within seconds, the girl collapsed.

Cynthia quickly locked the door and began undressing the unconscious girl, switching into her ceremonial attire. They looked nearly identical-same build, same height, same complexion. No one would know.

Moments later, the loudspeaker echoed through the stadium:

> "The young girl designated to present the flower garland to His Excellency, the President, may now step forward!"

She stepped out of the restroom and walked swiftly toward the stage. Her thoughts raced.

> "The time has come. The end of him... and the end of me."

No one suspected a thing as she gracefully approached the President and was handed the flower garland. It was 10:25 AM-just five minutes left until the bombs would detonate.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as she moved closer to Larry. With steady hands, she placed the garland around his neck. But instead of stepping back like she was supposed to, she embraced him tightly.

> "Larry, do you remember this face?" she whispered.

The President, surprised, looked down at her. His face paled in an instant.

> "Cynthia! My God... Cynthia!" he screamed in horror.

-

"Forward forever!! Backward never!"