Anger Management

I, Seema Menon, will say the TRUTH and nothing but the TRUTH.

The court session began. The judge proclaimed, “The prosecution may begin with the court proceedings.” A man, tall and rugged approached me. I was glad that the witness box was designed to be at a height and that the wooden separation gave me the courage to stand within that space. My dad was sitting in the audience, fear written all over his face. He wasn’t busy for the first time. He was here just for me and he was worried. He starts, “You know that the gun has your finger prints? You were present at the murder scene too. You called the police. You haven’t spoken a word since.” I just stared at nothing in silence. He questioned, “So did you do it?” I didn’t utter a word. “Your honor it is crystal clear that this lady has no regrets and has murdered her husband brutally.” My face turned pink. I started sweating. A drop of sweat dripped from my head onto the wooden enclosure. “That’s all, your honor” and the defense took his seat. My lawyer jumped off his seat and said, “Objection my Lord!” A wave of relief seemed to have crossed my dad. “Her silence doesn’t make the anything obvious. The gun was licensed under her name, so it’s obvious that there would be finger prints of the owner. There was no eye witness. When the police arrived at the crime scene, the body was lying in a blood pool and Seema was sitting next to him staring. Nothing can be concluded.” My dad always believed I that I could never do anything wrong. He always thought of me as a perfect daughter. I was and will always be. Thus, he had hired the best lawyer in the city. He had the power to buy out the judge too but he knew for sure I couldn’t have hurt anyone. The court session ended and the decision date was a week later.

I sat in my furnished jail quietly for a week. I dint eat. I kept fainting. My dad tried talking to me all week. He kept telling me I would be free in a week. The day came. The court session started. The judge commenced, “Would the victim like to say anything in her defense?” My dad was sitting on the corner of his seat, hoping I would speak. I held onto the wooden bar tightly. I started sweating. My heart rate increased.

My husband got back from a meeting. It was 2:30 a.m. When I enquired, he told me the same. It seemed like he had late night meetings every night. I pushed off the blanket covered over me, jumped up and said, “How long will you give me the same story? You are never here for me.” He replied, “You are insane. Why can’t you believe the truth?” I knew he wasn’t lying. It just pricked me that he dint have enough time for me. He went on, “You know what your problem is. You want me to be around you 24x7. You want me to keep saying you are perfect. You want me to tell you how much you matter to me.” I rebutted, “Stop! That’s not true!” I roared. “You want me to give you more than 24x 7 actually; you want me to compensate for your dad too.” I ran to the cupboard, crying, flung it open and fished into it. I could hear him go on. My hands fetched out a pistol. My heart rate speeded ahead. I started breathing hard. I raised it towards my husband, my fingers clutching the trigger. It angered him more and he said, “So you want to shoot me? You know what, you aren’t perfect and I wish I hadn’t spent these two years with you.” I pulled the trigger. The intensity of my aggression increased and there was a loss in self-monitoring capacity. My observability reduced and I pulled the trigger again, thrice. I screamed as I shot one after the other, right into his head. He fell to the ground. I threw the gun and sat silently near his body.

The judge spoke after a while, “Since the victim is silent, I assume she doesn’t have anything to say. Taking account of all the evidences, I consider the victim not guilty.” My dad let out a huge sigh. “The court session has ended.” I fell to my knees. I burst out crying. I knew I was guilty. I knew I was a terrible person, but I was still perfect according to my dad!

A week later, I talked to my dad for the first time after the incident. I told him I wanted to start anger management classes and he never understood why.