The main door slides open after I enter the password. Without turning on the lights, I walk into my open-concept house and head for the bed.

A wedding invitation just came in.

I slump into the exquisite Victorian armchair next to my bed. The entire day’s worth of fatigue weighs me down, overcoming my body. I sit on the sturdy piece of mahogany, contemplating about the same question I ask myself everyday when I am where I am now.

‘Which will break first. This chair, holding me up after each tiring day of work, or my soul, which lifted my body against ten years of emotional baggage weighing me down?’

Maybe given enough time, the answer will be made obvious…

“Another one? Who is it now?”

I expend what’s left of my energy to stand up and walk towards my work desk positioned opposite my bed. I pick up the nicely decorated envelope imprinted with golden cursive font.

See for yourself.

I tiredly slit open the envelope, my eyes swollen from the long hours of reading thick law books. I pull out the invitation card, squinting hard to decipher words which seem pretty much illegible to me. I manage to pick out four words from the overly polite invitation. Emotions and memories flood my senses as I stare at her name blankly.

“Ahh… I guess it’s time…”

As I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I lock eyes with him. He stares back into mine.

I smile mournfully into his despondent eyes, encouraging him.

“I guess we lose.”

No… You lose.

I look deep into his eyes for the longest period of time, trying to comprehend his reply. Then I notice his bloodshot eyes; his blank stare. Those eyes have always looked disoriented, lacking focus. That pair of eyes staring at me now has always had a crimson glint. I don’t even think I remember how it happened.

I break eye contact and turn my head to the polished grand piano.

“Ah… I guess you are right. I lose…”

Ever since this piano arrived, I have been playing music only for the four walls to hear. I gaze at it standing solitary on its four refined, wooden legs. Tonight, there is no music. The deafening silence jolt me to realisation. It is not the sleepless nights or endless fatigue at work. The lonely nights I struggle with everyday are the cause of his nightmares, his insomnia. And I have been waiting for this moment. It is the moment where nothing matters and will never matter again. My vision blurs and one droplet streams down my cheek. I wait for him to reply but all that greets me is silence.

“Hey… It’s raining. I guess I have to draw the curtains…”

“Buddy, it’s been three months. Have you decided yet?”

“I still don’t know…”

“Everyone’s attending though.”

My best friend on the other end hangs up the phone. I lean back on the leather chair, deciding if I should attend my… Our secondary school classmate’s wedding.

Her wedding is in three days time. The solemnisation is going to be held in her church. The banquet, at Marina Bay Sands Singapore. I heard that her husband-to-be booked the penthouse. Everyone is talking about it on Facebook. I open up Instagram on my phone. Pictures of her wedding photoshoot flood my screen. Her wedding is the hype of the town. Her sweet smile is trending on Instagram.

That’s a big diamond ring she has there.

“It’s not something I can’t afford.”

Really? I doubt it.

Knock, knock, knock. The door opens. I glance up. My legal assistant cum secretary is leaning against my doorway. I smile at her.

“Boss, you have a meeting soon at the Police Headquarters,” she reminds me of my tight schedule.

I get up and smoothen my shirt.

“Thanks for reminding me, Acelynn. While I’m out, can you clear my desk and get me more coffee? And lock the door on your way out.”

She answers from the doorway. “Sure. Sometimes I wonder why you even need an assistant. You’re so efficient, you leave me with nothing to do,” she replies animatedly.

I shrug her comment off with a smile and hand her the keys. “Thanks Acelynn…”

Acelynn continues on while clearing my table, “Looking good as always, boss. But don’t get too carried away by the young ma’ams there at the precinct.” She has a mischievous glint in her eyes as she bats her eyelashes. “Oh and before I forget… You have another appointment with a witness to the Stein case at six. I worked overtime to prepare the case file for you.”

“Yup, I’ll be back to talk to the witness, don’t worry about it.”

I leave the room and head for the carpark.

“Urgh…”

I grimace. Every single time I enter or exit the Attorney-General Chambers, I always get stares from others, as if I were some kind of freak. I used to like the attention, but that was back when I was a student, still oblivious to the sheer massive size of the world. Now, I just want my innocence back.

“That’s him. The one who on the Danry case.”

“Who? Him? He’s the one? He’s just a kid!”

“That’s the one Law Society calls Satan Incarnate, the youngest senior prosecutor in town.”

Satan Incarnate. That is the label given to me by the defence counsels. In the courtroom, I am the criminals’ worst nightmare. I always request for the maximum penalty to be dealt for every criminal I prosecute. A police investigation officer whom I am close to confessed to me once that most criminals would rather face the music than appeal to the high court and risk experiencing my wrath. Half of the defence counsels in Law Society do not agree with my ruthless approach. The other half do not even have the time to discuss about it. They are too occupied wondering how they lost the case to me. I am that good. I have never lost a case.

So the name stuck. Every law enforcer in town knows me by Satan Incarnate, the devil in flesh, the one who condemns humans to hell.

As an up-and-rising star in the AG Chambers, I am on route to becoming the youngest chief prosecutor in history. But all these came with many sacrifices and a hell lot of discipline and hardwork. I had to research on cases into the wee-hours of the night, reaching home only to catch about an hour of sleep before taking on the next day. I didn’t want to deprive my family members of their rest so I moved out. My job became so demanding that the Chambers requested for an assistant to help me with my work load. Out of all the candidates, I picked a twenty-three year old law graduate fresh out of college. And so I am stuck with a cheerful individual, three years younger than me, following behind me wherever I go.

How ironic… Someone so optimistic should not follow behind a broken man.

Ignoring his comments, I walk towards my Mercedes-Benz parked in the reserved lot. I click the button on my car key and get into my two-seater sports car.

“The red packet is gonna cost a fortune, y’know that, right?”

Not an amount you can’t afford.

“Thought you doubted my financial capabilities?”

It is tradition to give the bride and groom a red packet for good luck and fortune. The amount of money in the red packet is supposed to be equivalent to the price of the dinner. The more luxurious the hotel, the heavier the ‘payment’.

I wait for his reply…

I take out my phone and call my best friend, Zed.

“Hey. I can’t make it for the solemnisation, but I will come for the dinner.”

Anyway, it doesn’t seem apt for Satan Incarnate to walk through the holy doors of church.

Finally, something we agree on.

I hang up the phone. For that split second, I see the reflection of my face in the phone screen.

“Nothing’s changed,” I sigh. I start up the engine and take a glance at the rear mirror. There he is, his red eyes still looking back at me.

For starters, you can never afford her smile…

To that, I have no reply.

I pull on my blazer and glance at the mirror one last time.

No, not that expression. You’ll scare everyone away.

“It doesn’t matter. Those red eyes will already suffice.”

They can’t see me, not unless you show them.

Still facing the mirror, I straighten my tie.

“Then what do you propose I do?”

Follow my instructions and you will do fine. But if you wish to escape, let them see you for who you really are…

I imagine myself facing my family and close friends, all silently smiling and nodding at me through the mirror. I inhale deeply. My chest expands. A gush of warm energy fills my head. I grin at them.

Yes. That’s it. That’s the smile.

Knock, knock, knock. Acelynn opens the door.

“Boss, it’s almost six-thirty. You have a wedding to attend.”

I turn my torso to face her.

“Do I look presentable?”

“Totally! You can be the groom today!” she tease.

I laugh and bid her goodbye as I walk pass. Every time my heels touch the ground, they give off clicking sounds. What melodious music to my ears.

As I get into my car, I slump into the cushion seat and sigh.

“If only the groom were me…”

I try to numb the anguish edging its way out of my skin by dousing alcohol down my heart. Ostensibly, twelve glasses of the finest red wine are not enough to get me drunk. The classical music I usually love blares in my ears. Damn it. I am still sober. Like cancer, my love for her has spread to every nerve in my worn-out body. I can still feel, apparently.

Prepare yourself. She will be walking down the red carpet soon. Pop panadols like candy to numb the pain.

“Is that panadol you’re taking?” my best friend whispers.

“Nah. It’s vitamins,” I reply with a grin.

“I am a doctor for Christ’s sake. Do you think I can’t recognise panadol from vitamin pills?”

Ignoring him, I swallow a handful of white tablets.

“You can’t take that many pills. You’ll die.”

“I guess I already have.”

He stares at me tensely and I return his stare with a grin. The intense moment is interrupted by a roar of applause. The symphonic band they hired plays Variations on the Kanon arranged by George Winston. Everyone stands up to welcome the groom and the bride.

As she enters the ballroom, welcome her with the warmest applause, for they say loving someone means to see her be happy.

I see her, as clear as crystal, smiling blissfully as she walks down the red carpet, her arm interlocked with the groom. She is stunning in her sophisticated white wedding gown. She is an angel descended from the heavens.

How much I longed to see her in a wedding gown. How much I envisioned a future with her. How much I yearned to be next to her, walking down the aisle together… Every clap of my hands brings a bout of heartache.

“I’m calling an ambulance. You need to wash that stomach.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“You’ll die!”

“I told you I’m fine!” I snap.

“Just because the groom isn’t you doesn’t mean you have to commit suicide!”

No one seems to notice our argument. Everyone’s attention is on her and him.

“If you don’t want to make a scene here, fine. I can understand that. But I’m taking you to the hospital to pump your stomach once this is over. The chemicals won’t be absorbed into the bloodstream that soon, given that you have some food in your system already.”

“Whatever.”

Smile, like you’ve practiced in front of the mirror ever since you were sixteen.

“Congratulations,” I smile and shake her hand. It is the same smile I taught myself ten years ago. It takes every inch of my willpower not to pull her away from her husband.

She turns to the groom and says, “Dear, these are my secondary school friends!”

For a split second, I scowl at the word “friends”.

I offer to shake the groom’s hand, “Congratulations, you’re a lucky man.”

“Thanks. Wait… Are you…? Are you Satan Incarnate?”

My uninterested eyes gaze into his.

“Wow! I can’t believe it! The cold-blooded Satan Incarnate at my wedding! This is going to be the topic of the year!” He turns to her enthusiastically and exclaims, “Bae, you never mentioned that the notorious Satan Incarnate is your friend! It’s an honour!”

She is dumbfounded. What is he talking about? Even in Law School, she has heard of the callous prosecutor’s reputation. But she never imagined that the finest counsel in Law Society would happen to be me.

I can feel it again. The same unease when every eye in the room scrutinises my every movement. The groom’s family and friends watch me suspiciously. Among them are prominent figures. I recognise a handful of them who are partners of established laws firms, various influential politicians and socialites. The rest is made up of their congregation. I am pretty sure they recognise me as well. Or at least, my alias. Others are apprehensive upon hearing the taboo word which they avoid. It feels as if I am transported back into the courtroom, where I am being judged by refined monkeys in an enclosure.

“You’re exaggerating… You’ve far more renowned guests at your wedding tonight. You don’t have to be overly excited about my presence,” I state as a matter of fact.

The groom, not taking the hint, turns around to look at the group of elites holding champagne glasses, engaging in small talk.

“Yeah. They are close friends of my daddy. Uncle Roland, that’s Justice Ee for your information, has been a close family friend ever since they were in college. Godpa Joe goes way back. He’s my grandfather’s business partner’s son.” He turns back pompously to face me, proud that he has such extensive connections.

My tolerance for this boy is at its limit. I feel a surge of boiling blood gush up my head. Maintaining my grin, I bluntly retort, “If you say it this way, how much of your pocket-money did you earn yourself?”

I stare at him pointedly, waiting for his reply. He looks at me horridly and gasps. All he says is, “Your eyes… They’re red…”

Without delay, I excuse myself to the washroom.

I splash the cool tap water on my face.

What’s with that twisted grin on your face?

I look up and face him directly in the mirror.

“What’s with those red eyes? You scared the shit out of him!”

I told you. No one will see me, not unless you show them.

“Are my eyes still red?”

No. They’re black again. But do something about that hollow smile of yours. You look hideous.

I correct my smile in the mirror.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Oh really? Who was the one who needed my help in the beginning?

Now, it is my turn to keep quiet.

I turn my back on him and walk out towards the door.

I’ll see how long more you can stand this circus charade…

Try to keep yourself alive, even though you’d be dead by now, or tortured worse than death.

The effects of the heavy dosage of panadol in my system start to act up. It is the worst gastric sensation ever. My stomach is a furnace, burning the tissue-lining of my insides. Apart from that, my head feels like it can explode any moment. So this is what “burning in hell” means. In the inferno of hell, you burn from within. The flames consume you from the inside, coldly biting its way out. Yet, however much you feel like giving up, the suffering does not end until you are devoured completely.

Try hard not to vomit in your best friend’s car when he gives you a lift home.

“Sorry if your new Rolls smells of vomit,” I attempt to string these few words together. “It’s the god-damn alcohol just now.”

“It’s the alcohol and the panadol, you asshole,” Zed corrects me. “And I’m not taking you home. You’re going to the hospital.”

“Whatever…” I mumble.

Deep down, I know that he is right. Both the hard liquor and numbing medicine in my gut and bloodstream are making me retch. I am concentrating on keeping myself conscious. I have no energy left to argue with him.

“Why did you even have to do that?” he sighs. It is a rhetorical question. He knows me better than anyone. He already knows the answer.

I look into the reflection of his eyes through the rear mirror but keep quiet.

“Everything you’ve done… Is it even worth it?”

Was it worth it? Even I do not know the answer… All I knew was that I was suffocating in a whirlpool of emotions…

Come to think of it, I don’t even remember what I did and did not do back in the ballroom. Everything seems so mashed up in my mind. I am unable to identify which is reality and which is my hallucination… … …

“Bae and I met in the office.”

As he boasts, he looks at his new bride.

“She was doing an internship at the firm during her second year and I was helping my father out with the big cases during the summer break.”

No big deal… You were already a rising prosecutor then.

And he is still walking behind his father, basking in his father’s reputation.

“I was so touched by her passion to help victims who are clueless about the law. I still vividly remember her words back then. ‘I will only do Pro Bono!’ she said. And I fell in love with this angel immediately.”

The ballroomm went swooning with “awwwwwwww’s.

I curb my reaction. If Pro Bono was the reason he fell in love with her, then what does that make me?

I still remember our promise vividly.

I studied law because of her. I wanted to prove to her that even someone like me could also become a lawyer. I left my family and friends to study overseas. I slogged my guts out, sacrificing all my time and energy on studying. Eventually, I graduated two years earlier than my cohort, coming in top of the graduation batch. I was considered a prodigy in my college. In fact, an established multi-national law firm had recruited me as a defence counsel they wanted to groom. I returned home, eager to surprise her with my valedictory scroll. Instead, I got the shock of my life. She had moved on and left me behind.

She forgot our promise…

She may even have forgotten that I existed.

So I switched to prosecution. She believed that humans are well-natured and that everyone deserves a proper defence. But do we really deserve a proper defence? Was I given a chance by her? No. I began to oppose everything she believed in. To me, humans are corrupt and selfish individuals. Someone has to unmask these hypocrites so that balance is restored.

I had nothing to fall back on except my law degree. So I became the best prosecutor there was. I worked endlessly to forget the promise I kept, the promise which she forgot. I soon had everything in the world. Fame, money and women. But all these still could not fill up the emptiness in my heart.

Who is he to receive her love?

I clench my fist so tightly, my palms bled.

“Dear, you’re flattering me…” she replies mushily.

“Aww… She’s like that…That’s what I love about her…” He boasts to his guests.

My body trembles involuntarily with anger which I can no longer contain. My vision and hearing blurs. My heart which I had initially left behind thumps vigorously against my ribs.

I imagine myself rushing up to the stage and giving the groom one good punch in his face. I am like a madman, howling and crying while giving him a barrage of punches on the floor.

“You don’t deserve her!”

While I land punches on his loathsome face, I rant on.

“You’ve never felt any anguish in your life! Do you know what it feels like to enter a house every single day only to be greeted by darkness? Do you know what it feels like when no one is there to hear you cry? Do you know how it feels like to wake up in the night covered with cold sweat, haunted by nightmares of the regrets of your life?”

I grow tired, and my punches get slower.

“You don’t know ANYTHING!”

I look up to face her. It is the first time I look at her in the eye. She has her hands covering her mouth. Her eyes reveal her shock and fear.

I must look dreadful and fiendish this instant.

The sound of a crystal glass breaking rings in my ears. Red wine spills all over the carpeted floor.

“Hey! His body is going into seizure! Someone call the ambulance!”

“I’m a doctor! Move aside! I’ll take him to the hospital!”

Without warning, I threw up. My mind goes blank and I hit the ground, unconscious.

Heh heh heh… You proved me right. This circus charade is too much for you to handle…

… … …

I shift my eyes away from the rear mirror. I cannot even differentiate my imaginations from reality anymore. Everything I’ve done… I don’t even know what I did… I stare at my blood-stained palms. Is it blood or wine? I don’t even know what it is… I do not have the right to judge. So now you tell me, was it worth it…?

The gastric lavage is done efficiently.

The doctor-in-charge explains in complicated medical lingo the things to take note of when I return home. I am just too exhausted to do any more comprehension.

“In other words, your life is not in any immediate danger and you can be discharged now,” Zed summarises.

“I’m sending you back to your home.”

“No. Don’t. I don’t want my family to worry about me. And… and I don’t want to be reminded of that street…”

“Damn, your house is on the other end of the island. You expect me to…”

My best friend exhales and concedes. After all the mentally torturing events that have taken place today, the last thing he wants is for me to remember those times I used to walk her home on that street opposite my own home.

“Fine. You win,” Zed resigns.

“No. I didn’t win… I lost. I lost ten years ago… I lost even without stepping into the courtroom…” I whisper.

I enter the password and open the main door. The darkness greets me. Without turning on the lights, I head for the nearest support I can find - the piano.

Slump on the piano, your fingers too numb to move… Now, you have my permission to cry.

I rest my weight on the piano, my eyes too tired to cry. It has been a long and torturing night…

No… It has been a prolonged and tormenting life.

I look closely at the reflection in the polished grand piano. It is an image of a pathetic, worn-out tramp…

Let the tears reflecting the image of her in her wedding gown trickle down your piano, which you played everyday for her.

There will be no music tonight.

But if you wished to escape, you should have let them see you for who you really are. Don’t attend the wedding. But I know, more than anyone else, that if you don’t go, your heart would be at the wedding without you. And that would mean that you are already dead…

In spite of my miserable state, I manage to ask him one last question.

“Who are you? Who are you to persecute me?”

Hahaha… Who am I? I am amused you even asked…

…

I am Satan Incarnate.

The man in the mirror waits for my reply, but all that greets him is silence…

The Tale of Three Men, coming soon.