Karmic encounter with Eve: Messenger of God or the Devil?

This is my friend's story, which changed his whole life. Is it really through man that God or the Devil cleanses this world of scoundrels through someone else's hands?

My name is Tom Charlize, and this is my confession. On August 25, 2013, I met a charming girl at the Fire nightclub. She introduced herself as Eva. Then I thought I was lucky that she likes fat guys. She herself had an amazing figure: a slender body, as if sculpted by a master, with a magnificent bust and wide hips - just like a Greek goddess.

We danced with her all night. Of course, it will seem silly to many, but I fell head over heels in love with this girl from the first minute. There was something gypsy about her, damned seductive. Naturally, after the dance we went to my house. In truth, it was the best sex of my life. It was only during the orgasm that something seemed strange to me, but then I didn't pay attention to it. Her face. She suddenly became wrinkled and old, like rotten prunes. I screamed, but a moment later a stunningly beautiful girl appeared in front of me again. I calmed down, blaming everything on the deceptive moonlight. The moon that day was white and full, like a dead man's eye.

However, the next morning Eva disappeared, leaving a farewell note: "This night was amazing. We could do it again sometime. (phone number) Wear it with love."

When I put the note back in its place, I suddenly noticed a small bracelet next to it, which I hadn't noticed before. Leather, black, with some strange signs and symbols carved right on the skin. "So that's what I should wear with love," I thought. And I put it on. I wore it without taking it off.

I didn't have to call this number myself—the next day she found me herself. I was walking after school and saw her. She looked amazing in a black dress and black stockings. She smiled at me and asked, "Are you wearing my bracelet?"

"Of course, Eva. It looks really good with my costume," I replied and kissed her. She let me do it, but it seemed to me that she was very reluctant. She was worried about something and impatiently moved her hands like a person with a substance use disorder in need of a dose.

"I have to tell you something, and you have to help me," she said, and took a crumpled newspaper sheet out of her pocket.

I was surprised by this turn, but I took it and started reading. It turned out to be criminal reports from the week before last.

"On August 10, a brutal rape and subsequent murder occurred in the Texas area. The culprit was never found."

"On August 13, a family of four was shot with a double-barreled shotgun. The culprit was never found."

I read it and looked at Eva. Her eyes were burning with some strange, incomprehensible fire; I could feel the mute rage emanating from her with my skin, and could not understand its reasons in any way. "What's wrong with you?" I just asked.

"I know murderers," she said simply, her eyes still sparkling.

I never expected this. She really started scaring me. "How do you know?" I asked, but she gently touched my hand around the bracelet and sweetly sang.

"Don't worry, honey. It'll be fine, just come with me."

And then something happened that I never expected. I just followed her, silently, without uttering any words or objections, although there were. It seemed like my will was turned off and I was just doing what I was told. Moreover, my consciousness also began to shut down.

I woke up next to the mutilated corpse of a man in an apartment I didn't know. I was covered in blood. Eva stood to the side, arms crossed over her chest, and smiled. She was happy. I made her smile and be happy, which meant it didn't matter what I had to do to do it. I smiled back at her, and she said, "He's a rapist and a murderer. You did a good job, Tom." She called me by my first name for the first time. Then she came up to me and kissed me so passionately that I closed my eyes with pleasure.

When I opened them, I found that I was at home, on the couch. Mom was sitting next to me and watching some program on TV. I'm sweating all over because of the nightmare. I looked at the time — it was six o'clock in the evening.

"Why did you come so late today? Usually at one o'clock in the afternoon already at the computer, and here you showed up at five. Has the girl finally appeared?" mom asked.

My heart sank. I didn't remember anything except the terrible scenes I dreamt about. But it couldn't really be, could it?

"I do not know," I replied, and, feeling my hand, I felt the taste of wild fear in my mouth. He was wearing the same bracelet. I got up and went to the bathroom. Mom kept her worried eyes on me all the time.

"If all this were true, then my shirt would be soaked through with blood," I thought. But my shirt was perfectly clean. It didn't even have the typical round sweaty spots for guys. That's what alerted me.

I decided to take off my shirt. When it was done, I threw it aside and looked in the mirror. The hair on my head began to move with horror. A sharp retching urge bent me in half, and in a matter of seconds I emptied my stomach right on the floor. My whole torso was covered in dried blood. There was not a single piece of white skin on it. I opened the shower and climbed into the bathroom, still breathing heavily and not believing what had happened.

"I'm a murderer... a murderer" flashed through my head. "My life is over. It's over."

And I started crying, crying like a child, crying loudly and not thinking about anything. I was standing in the shower, blood dripping from me and turning the water a bright scarlet. And I saw how this color goes into the gutter, into the sewer, and thereafter feeds its bloody juices to black rats with beady eyes. This vision made me sick for the second time.

Mom knocked on the door for a long time. I couldn't wake up and move away from the shock. The maximum I could do was to wash the body of the blood and wash off its traces in the bath. I did it automatically, without thinking. Mom kept knocking, saying something quickly and excitedly through the door. I finally opened the door and answered her questioning look, "I just got poisoned, Mom, it's okay."

"Yes, I'm fine, except that I killed a man," my already half-crazed brain thought. Before the gag reflex twisted my already empty stomach again, I quickly went to bed.

The next day I felt better and assumed to myself that it was a clouding of the mind. There was no murder; I just smeared myself with jam, paint, ketchup or some other rubbish. Or gone mad. The latter option seemed the most attractive because it was the most illogical. After all, when you're reckless, you can do whatever you want, and everything is forgiven to you. I spent the whole day trying to mentally go mental, trying to come up with something abnormal, but by the end of the day I gave up on these pathetic attempts. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do it. My brain was working normally; I couldn't even imagine pink elephants soaring in the sky — what can we say about a brutal murder?

When I left university, to my great horror, I saw Eva again. She was standing on the opposite side of the road, smiling as if nothing had happened, and looking straight at me. When I saw her, I abruptly turned back to the university. And not just turned around, but rushed back as fast as he could, pushing aside the guys coming out on the road. My friend Chris stopped me and asked, "Where are you going like this? Forgot what?"

I, not listening to him, looked around. Eva wasn't there. My heart was pounding so hard that I thought Chris should have heard it too. "No, nothing," I said as calmly as I could. "Could you walk me to the subway?"

Chris was surprised, but he was impressed by my pale appearance, and he nodded. We walked in silence; I constantly looked around, scared to death to see at least a glimpse of a familiar black dress. I even screamed a couple of times, which really scared my friend. It was obvious from his face that he already regretted going with me.

When I had to walk a few meters to the subway, someone suddenly grabbed my arm from behind and pulled me away from my friend. I turned around and was petrified with fear. It was Eve, and she was smiling at me, but I could feel her all-consuming and burning anger on my way.

"Where are you going, dear? We have a lot to do today," she said, and led me, as if for the first time, completely lost my will, somewhere to the side. Making a last effort, I turned my head in the direction of my friend, but he was no longer there.

Everything happened like the first time — I didn't control my movements. But now I didn't lose consciousness. We were in a basement, two men were kneeling in front of me. They were crying. Real grown men, maybe older than me, were crying like newborn babies. I could only hear my own deafening laughter filling the basement with a deafening sound. Eve stood off to the side, grinning contemptuously. Then she nodded to me-no... the other me. Another time I took a kitchen knife and stood behind the men. They kept crying and begging me to spare them. They offered money, apartments, cars, anything, but I kept silent, and slashed one throat from ear to ear with a flourish. The second one screamed, and with the second swing I drove the knife right into his ear. Two bodies fell to the concrete floor with a heavy thud, like sacks of potatoes.

The case was over. I turned around to cuddle Eva, because everything I did, I did for her.

When I saw what was standing in Eve's place, I (the inner, real me) was horrified. It was a black wrinkled creature with large bottomless black eyes, and on its head it had small red horns, the color of blood, and this creature stretched out its claws to me like a vulture. The other one didn't seem to notice the substitution and came over to hug the creature. I looked at IT with horror up close, and at the distance of my palm it was even scarier. The creature's skin was charred, as if it had been roasted in the underworld, from where it undoubtedly came. He looked me in the eyes and said in a voice rough as a blacksmith's voice, "thank you" Then he abruptly tore the bracelet from my hand and disappeared into the darkness.

I opened my eyes. Closed them. Then I opened it again, but the picture did not change — this time I was not at home. I fell, exhausted, on the floor next to the corpses and lay there until the police arrived. They say that when they found me, I was lying in a pool of someone else's blood, looking in front of me with a glass unseeing eye and kept repeating, "It will come back. It won't leave me, it won't leave me! It's not fair!".

But life in general is unfair.

During the interrogations, I was silent all the time. What could I say?.. Then I was sent for a forensic psychiatric examination, and I had no doubt that I would be recognized as sane. No matter how much I wanted it, I wasn't a wild person and I didn't become one.

The only thing that somehow calmed me down was that my victims didn't show much sympathy either. It turned out that the first victim was a former convict who had served fifteen years for double rape. The other two are robbers and repeat offenders who were put on the international wanted list, but no one could find them: they constantly changed their place of residence. And do you know what I did? I didn't just find them outside the city at an abandoned military training ground; I somehow climbed to a four-meter height, knocked out the ventilation grate, and crawled six meters through the pipe. Then I popped out of nowhere and.... You know the rest.

Now I've told you everything, and it's up to you to believe me or not. They'll put me away anyway. The lawyer throws up his hands and says that they will give him at least twenty years for special cruelty. But it seems that he does not really sympathize with me. He looks at me with disgust, like a dead rat, and I understand him.

As soon as the opportunity presents itself, I will commit suicide. I'm not afraid of pain and death, and, as you know, I don't even claim paradise. Yesterday, in front of a crying mom, I pretended to be unpredictable so as not to upset her — let her think that her son was absurd.

When I reflect on what happened, I realize that I was a weapon. But in whose hands? An angel? A demon? Who is Eve, and how many such "Eves" roam the earth, "cleansing" it of murderers, rapists, pedophiles and other degenerates of humans? And how many innocent victims of "temporary insanity" like me?

Sometimes there are people so disgusting and vile that even the devil cannot accept their existence, and then she - Eve comes into play.

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