"We bring you the latest news update. 2 people were killed in a traffic accident that occured at..." - crack -
Finally, he woke up, the squeaking radio disturbing his long slumber. The pain in his head stung like a needle that drives through him mercilessly. Adding to it, the afternoon sun penetrated through the dirty windows with the badly-torn curtains, through the dusty air - and into his eyes. Took him a minute or two before he could see anything clearly.
He didn't know how long he had slept, all he remembered was he kept drinking until he lost his consciousness. He didn't even remember his dreams, but he felt dried tears on his cheeks.
Who cares now anyway ? He walked to the washroom, and through the broken mirror he saw the once-brilliant young man, a young chap who had hope and a bright future, and now, he looked no different than someone who lived in the slums. Unshaven for days, uncombed hair, and weary eyes.
Aye, he was ruined. Jealousy, from the people who disliked what he has achieved, and set him up to destroy him. Ignorance, of his ex-employer, who used to look up upon his talents, but now resembles nothing more than a fool, easily-deceived and settled matters according to his emotions.
WHY ? WHY ?!
What did he do to deserve this, this kind of TREATMENT?
Not only did he lost his career, but also his car, house, all his money, and the one he treasured the most - his fiancee, who left him even though he pleaded to her desperately.
FRAMED !!!
The whole thing was a set-up ! That night, that TREACHEROUS night, his colleagues held a party celebrating his promotion. Never did he knew it was part of the darkest plot that was going to overthrow him. He didn't suspect the presence of his employer's young beautiful wife that night, thinking that she'd like to join the fun. Neither was he aware that the drink he had has been spiked by unseen hands. The next thing he knew, he awoke on the bed, next to the woman that he wasn't supposed to touch...
Words spread quickly like the fire in the dry bushes. That very same day, he lost his job, his fiancee, and almost all the things he owned - no, most of it had been placed under her name a week ago before THAT happened...
There's nothing left for him now. There's nothing else he can do now. He was RUINED. RUINED. RUINED...
This will be the last day in the shabby apartment he had rented, for now that tiny amount of money he had had been spent. He could have stayed on for maybe a month with that amount, but he decided not to. Instead, he bought something else...
Some alcohol to drink out his sorrows, a roll of adhesive tape, a box of matches, some rope, and a knife. But most of the money went to the package of industry-strength trinitrotoluene - enough to take out a small building.
He started to assemble them, using his limited knowledge of making fireworks - when he was young, he adored fireworks and often made them for the fun of it, and of course, was punished most of the time by his late mother.
He had no father - he only knew his mother used to be in love with a wretch who ran away with his mistress. Despite that, she managed to raise her only son, singlehanded, until he graduated from university. But for that, she paid the toll for it - cancer took her life away, the day he was about to tell her that he got his first job.
WHY ? WHY WAS IT UNFAIR ?!
The moment he snapped back to reality, cheeks wet, he had completed his final masterpiece. A beauty. A beauty that robs others for their beauty. And THAT, will be his final vengeance.
He dried his face and strapped the device onto his body, and covering it up with a jacket. Then, he took the last swig from his bottle, and walked out of that shabby place, with the radio playing some heavy metal music.
An hour later, the radio cracked and the music was interrupted.
"We interrupt to bring you the latest news. About half an hour ago, an explosion caused by a suicide bomber occured in the XX Towers... " - crack - " ... it was believed that this is not an organized attack..." - the radio fell dead.
Silence.
