The Paradox of Sin

Paradox:

1. A seemingly contradictory statement that may nonetheless be true.

2. One exhibiting inexplicable or contradictory aspects.

3. An assertion that is essentially self-contradictory, though based on a valid deduction from acceptable premises

4. A statement contrary to received opinion.

Sin:

1. A transgression of a religious or moral law, especially when deliberate.

2. Something regarded as being shameful, deplorable, or utterly wrong.

I never wanted to hurt her.

Why did you, then?

I never wanted to love her.

Why is it so hard to admit that now?

I never wanted to kill her.

Why not?

I never wanted to be without her.

Why is it too late?

I never wanted anything but her.

Why can't you just take it all back?

I never did anything to her.

Why do you have to lie?

*

For as long as he could remember, there were secrets. Not only did he have to keep his own secrets hidden from the many, prying eyes of those that could hurt him, but also his father's.

Greed.

And his mother's.

Pride.

These secrets of those he loved were not really secrets. Everyone knew, no one said anything. It was better that way, leaving him to think that he had the knowledge of something so very secretive locked up in his heart and mind, day after day, guarding those facts of the ones close to him. And he thought everything was good.

Until his father died, locked away in a prison cell like those thoughts were locked in his son's soul, and his mother became insane, talking to her long dead husband into the early hours of the morning. Of course he knew about his mother's ranting, he was the one to commit her, in the end. He just didn't want to face his life, so he let her slip away.

Sloth.

A hospital attendant found her one winter's night, curled up on her bed in an almost peaceful manner. She had brushing out her hair that night, as she had every night all of her life, one hundred strokes. Something had happened. She had bushed so hard into her head that she bled to death from the many scrapes down her scalp.

And he was alone now. But, really, he had always been alone. Those secrets, his father's

Wrath

and his mother's, had kept him caged up for so long that he was cold. Everything was cold. The world that had once been perfect for him, the world that had danced upon a string for his sheer amusement, was now frozen in a crystalline dream.

It wasn't as if he hadn't known this would happen, as if he hadn't known that everything might come crumbling down between his fingers some day. All his life he had been taught to face what you could and run from the rest. Now he couldn't run, because he was numb.

He slumped into depression. He fell into narcotics and cheap cigarettes. He was born again in the brothels every night, seeing what he couldn't have

Lust.

and loving it all the more because of it.

Envy.

Even then, when there was nowhere else to go, he continued on. It was the same routine every day, a different whore every night. Even though he had nothing, he had something. Money. Money made his world spin, if only for a little while. Muggle pound notes, Sickles, it didn't matter to him anymore. They all blended into something amazing. Something that kept him alive.

Of course, when that money ran out, so did he. He finally ran, just like he had been told. And when he couldn't run anymore, when he had gone so far as the edge of the world, he stopped. He tried taking up a job. He tried living life like he had never tried before, but failed. He only wanted more and more of things he couldn't quite reach out for.

Gluttony.

And when he failed, I found him.

*