UNKNOWN POV—
There are three main parts that compose a human's life. These encompass the past, present, and future. The past refers to things that have already transpired. It cannot be altered. You can't change your past. Now, the present is what you are living in at this moment, and you can change your course of action, which will result in your present getting changed at that very moment. It is like an option that gives you the right to alter your life; it may be good or bad; it doesn't matter. What matters is that the future is the outcome of your actions or the choices that you have made in the present. It's similar to a mystery box, a box that is of unknown nature. You have no choice but to open it. That mystery box could be Pandora's box or the box of good fortune.
As I have said before, your past can't be changed. There are many things that are left by your past. One of them is memories. Your memories could be divided into bad or good. People cherish their good memories, whereas they desperately want to forget their bad memories. An event's memory differs from person to person. Some may recollect it as a good memory, and for others the same memory can be bad, a fucking nightmare.
You must all be wondering why I am saying all this crap. Why should we care about our past? It already happened; you can't change it. Just move on; who the hell cares about the memories? My dear friends, you are wrong. The consequences of your actions in the past might haunt you—in your dreams, in your thoughts, and even in your real life. Revenge is a dish that always tastes good when served cold. As I have said before, regarding the memories, consequences, and all other things, I wanted to tell you only one thing. A person's past always catches up to his/her present. That's what happens and will always happen. You can't stop it even if you want to.
What I am going to tell you now is a story about someone, one you may or may not like. This story is about a man, his choices, and his resolve. So, let's begin this story. Ok, before starting this story, please tie up your seat belts as you all, my friends are in for a hell of ride. Boom! Start...
THIRD POV—
It was a cold and frosty night, with stars standing out clearly in the night sky, like a person's hope for his/her bright future. It was around 2 am in the morning. There was a bar that was still open at that very late hour. A lot of people were inside the bar at that time. Most of them were drunkards. A drunkard is a person who either has everything or has nothing. Alcohol was the only thing that could distract them from their life.
A man in his 50s entered the bar. Looking around, he walked towards the bar's counter and took a seat on the stool. His facial features included long, white hair and deep green eyes. His face was riddled with scars.
He ordered, "Thomas, bring me the usual."
The bartender, Thomas, looked at him with some surprise evident on his face, as if he was surprised to see him there. He said, "Derek. It's been a long time, my friend." Saying this, he made a glass of Negroni and handed it to him.
Derek took the glass from Thomas's hand and sipped it slowly to savour the drink to its fullest. He complimented, "No matter how many times I drink this fucking thing, I could never be satisfied. This drink tastes so fucking good, especially if you serve it."
Thomas chuckled for a few seconds, but suddenly he stopped smiling. There was a look of seriousness on his face. He asked, "Why are you here, Derek? It's been years since I last saw you. What brings you here?"
Thomas rubbed the handle of his cane with his left hand and placed the cane on the counter. He faked a look of hurt and exclaimed, "Ouch! Your words hurt me! Can't I visit an old friend?"
Thomas slammed his hands against the counter, causing the drink to be knocked over. He yelled, "Don't joke with me. Tell me, Why the fuck are you here for?" He took out a gun from his waist and pointed at Derek. The appearance of the gun scared all the drunkards, instantly sobering them up. Fearing what would happen, all of them ran out of the bar. Seeing him taking out a gun, Derek laughed and gave him a look as if he were looking at a fool.
Calmly, Derek said, "Thomas, you are naïve. Are you a fool?" He pointed his finger at the gun and said, "I am not at all afraid of this toy in your hand."
"Just tell me why you are here. What do you want?"
Derek snapped his fingers and got up from his chair. Thomas tightened his hands on the gun and kept the gun's line of sight at him.
Derek took out a cigarette from his pocket and put it on the counter. He said, "Thomas, calm down. You must be wondering that why I am here, I mean after all these years, we haven't seen each other even once. Asking a question twice won't not do you any good. Although I must thank you, for giving me that wonderful drink which was destroyed your little charade." Thomas was getting more and more enraged by his words.
He yelled, "Derek! Do I look like someone who would use this gun in my hand as a pretence? Do not test my patience. I am warning you."
Derek mocked him by raising his hands. He said, "Oof, so much anger. Thomas, you are an old man. Being this much angry will send you to your early grave. I will tell you that why I am here. I am here because your student is dead. She is dead. Bingo! I said it." Hearing his words, Thomas was devastated. A tear dropped from his left eye.
"You are lying. He is lying. No, she can't die like this. She is not dead." Shaking his head, he repeated these words to himself as if it was a mantra. A mantra to convince himself that Derek was lying.