DEATH WARRANT
THE BEGINNING OF EVERYTHING (1)

Congratulations to you and thank you for finding me. I know, today is coming. The day I will be found. That's why I wrote this note. If only no one had managed to uncover the veil I created. Of course, I'll figure out a way to get this record to the police in case death comes my way. I don't want to say it, let's just say I want my name recorded in criminal history. My name stuck in people's minds and became proof that I had lived. I became a part of history and was remembered. That'sallthatis. Because the truth is, ever since I had this ability I believed no one would find me but God. Yes, I believe in the existence of God. If that question pops into your mind. I trust his existence. Really believe. With this ability no one will be able to find me. In fact, how many people have been victims because of this ability, the authorities do not also feel the strangeness of the victims I killed. It's not fun, is it? They consider the death of my victims purely god-made. What a boring game. Would you be happy if your game was ignored?

I believe humans are unique creatures. They are constantly chasing something they already have. They always think that what they are doing is still lacking so they do not care about boundaries that should not be on the tapaki. I don't know where that trait came from. I don't know, maybe humans were created that way. Greedy, greedy and uncaring. Always hiding behind a mask of hypocrisy. Always show smiles even if they drop each other. They chased each other to the same end of the Pyramid regardless of its surroundings. They use each other. Ironically, especially for people who do not realize that they are tricked by the hum of togetherness. It is disgusting to see those who empathize but never feel at all. The sweet words they spoke seemed to cure the incision. A word of passion full of nudity. I used to think things like that only happened around me. However, as time went on it turned out that humans were indeed like that. Creating a sense of happiness. No matter how. I believe God did not create the parameters of happiness. That is why people create their own version of happiness. That's a little bit of my motivation to do all this. Blissfulness.

I'll tell you a little about my childhood. The time when it all started. I grew up in a very rich family. My father was a great businessman. Since I was a child I had everything. Nope, no. Not everything. A mother's love I haven't had time to feel it. Raised in a family that keeps my eyes closed never see and feel the sweat. I never felt the sweat. Until my father fell. Totally tumbling. The company he built suddenly collapsed. My beloved mother ran away carrying all the remaining treasures. Even if he ends up dying with his mistress. What a disgusting woman. My father, who had been standing strong, was really fragile. He could not even lift the sweet smile on his lips anymore. How ironic. All my mother's debts and arrears must be at stake with the place where my father called it the palace. My house, room and happiness were taken away with nothing left. At the age of 12, I had to think about it all. Feel all that. I don't know who took that away from me. I really can't understand it. Why did all this happen? 

Since that incident, I have lived in a village where my father grew up. Only two years there we can create the same happiness. Happiness only. Because the hue on my face is not the same. I know he feels guilty. Her dry body showed that. Her hair falling out and her wrinkled skin told me that my father was not okay. It came to my mind like this is life. 

My poor father asked me to go back to school. He did not want his son to constantly live a hard life. He wanted me to be educated and be able to build a real life. I know it. However, his decision would create despair. I don't want to leave him alone. Refused it. You know, he wants me to go to school where people have luxurious possessions. He wants me to hang out with people like myself who are spoiled. I refused, it was not true happiness. Until, he promised to take care of my health if I returned to school. At that time I offered to follow his will after completing his State Junior High education. I didn't want his fragile body to collapse then as well. My decision made her so happy. 

My poor father, his wishes don't match his footsteps. My first year of public school was right on my birthday, the day I was born so visibly wanted to give a gift. I don't want that. I just asked for her time to laugh and play together at the amusement park as a gift. Of course, I want to get a gift on a special day. But my heart was unable to express it. On that special day, at the exact time of my birth at 14.03 WIB we both sat on the side of the road counting vehicles passing by. One of those passing by was a balloon seller with his vehicle adorned by colored stars. My nosy nature when it appeared. After the balloon seller disappeared behind a corner not far away at the end, we both stared at each other and smiled.  Saying in my mouth wants that! My father who was still smiling immediately rushed to pick up the motorbike parked in the corner of the park. I just smiled watching him. My father chased after him, I kept staring at him until my father was also lost in the corner where the balloon seller had turned. There was a boisterous sound, the people around the corner were running towards the turn where my father should have been. My foggy mind was trying to get rid of, I ran to see what was really going on there.. You know what I saw?

Since then, I have been living in an orphanage. The one who left me there was the demon who took my father's life. He was a policeman, the last time he met him he introduced me to his daughter named Misya Alexandra. I don't know what the purpose was to introduce me to that woman. After that, hatred and envy burned in my heart. Do you know what I thought in that moment? I want to kill his son. Very visible in his eyes the woman was an Emerald jewel that adorned the burrow of his heart. I want to know the answer if he sees his son become a corpse and can no longer see even if he still has two eyeballs. I wonder what he would feel if he knew his precious object could no longer speak and hear even if he cried in his ear. I want that!

From that day on I began to devise a plan to present the best gift for her. However, all of that is not done. I can only write stories where the demons I tortured all out in a work. I don't know how many stories I wrote back then. I can only repay them through imagination. Until I finally realized, hate wouldn't make that a reality. I know I can't beat him physically. But in my mind I still struggle with various ways to make it happen. And it happened while I was on a pilgrimage to my poor father's grave. A short-bodied woman the size of a Junior High seemed to be standing right next to my grandfather's grave. My father did take the pilgrimage there several times to introduce.

I don't know the woman, my father never talked about his family here. Because my father was just a child. Know it? In just a few seconds I turned the face of the woman growing into a mature woman. He looked at me smiling. Then put the bottle near my grandfather's grave. Then leave. Shortly after he left. I shouldn't have been curious to see that bottle. I should have just gone home by then. What a miracle, call it God's wish. It was just an empty bottle. I took the bottle back to the orphanage. At night, the woman appeared in my dreams. Totally real. He led me to an island, an island without inhabitants. I saw him standing under a tree pointing to a bottle hanging on it. When I took the bottle he told me to take someone's blood and write down how he died using the liquid I got. You know it did happen.

In the morning, the empty bottle I had brought from the grave was filled with black liquid. It was filled with the liquid I saw in my dream. He called it the blood of God. With that liquid, someone's life is now taken by me. I can determine someone's death. The fiction I've been writing has come true. Ever since I knew him I know why God did all that to me? What an unexplainable feeling. I feel happy to make people die as I wish. Even so, I don't know if God also feels happy when killing your father, mother and the people around you? I don't know, nobody knows that!

You're probably curious about the woman I mean, aren't you? The woman's name is Jara.