Curiosidades mortales/ Mortal curiosities

in #hive-1611552 months ago

Sabía que llegaría el día y no podía esperar más. Quería salir lo más rápido posible de ese apuro y dejar todo atrás, empezar de nuevo, irse a otra ciudad u otro país, cambiarse el nombre y dejar que el olvido se encargue del trabajo no deseado.

Empezó haciendo favores y cuando vio que podía sacarle algún provecho, comenzó a cobrar. Al principio el trabajo era sencillo y no cobraba mucho. Sin embargo, a medida que los encargos iban creciendo también lo hacía el precio.

Un buen día alguien le encargó que espiara a su esposa. Era lo más cotidiano, parejas celosas, maníacas, psicópatas.

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Este fue el último caso. El hombre le pidió que espiara a su esposa, que supiera todo lo que hacía cuando él se iba de casa; quería saber a quién veía, con quién hablaba e incluso quién la miraba. Quería informes diarios y ella le contestó que eso no sería posible, que podía entregarle informes cada dos días porque tenía otros casos abiertos y no podía dedicarle el tiempo exclusivo.

Nunca pensó que la tragedia la iba a salpicar. Nunca se imaginó que la información que le dio a aquel hombre sellaría el destino de aquella mujer y el suyo propio. Así que se puso manos a la obra.

Para saber lo que hacía, contrató a varios niños sin oficio para que le contaran todo y siguiera todos sus movimientos. Los niños eran fáciles de comprar, pues su paga consistía en chucherías y una que otra vez dinero.

Pasaron dos semanas. Los informes los entregaba a tiempo. El hombre se veía cada vez más irritado por lo que le contaba. Él no encontró ninguna queja sobre su esposa. Siempre vestía bien, con decoro. Salía a hacer las compras, saludaba a los vecinos, iba a la tienda, y aunque uno que otro le lanzaba un piropo, ella nunca se volteaba y nunca les respondía.

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Esto era lo que más le inquietaba. Él no quería saber nada de piropos, que la vieran, que la desearan. Nunca le dijo cuáles eran sus propósitos para que espiara a su esposa, pero ella lo sabía. Siempre eran los celos, lo único que no sabía que los de este hombre eran celos psicópatas.

Terminó el contrato. Ella se dedicó a otros menesteres, a averiguarle la vida a otras personas, a hacer dinero con lo que en un principio era puro pasatiempo. Fue entonces cuando se dio cuenta que su trabajo era peligroso.

A los pocos días escuchó gritos en la calle. Era una pelea. Se asomó al balcón de su casa para ver con más detalle lo que sucedía. Era el hombre peleando con su mujer. Llevado por el arrebato de celos, le reclamaba a su esposa por qué permitía que otros hombres la vieran y le dijeran esas cosas.

Ella, al principio, trató de calmarlo, de hacerlo entrar en razón. El hombre no escuchaba sus argumentos, sus gritos eran potentes, y ella lloraba, tratando de hablar, pero él no la dejaba, hasta que sacó de su bolsillo un arma y le disparó.
El hombre se estremeció, le tomó unos minutos en darse cuenta de lo que había pasado y volvió en sí cuando los vecinos lo agarraron y comenzaron a golpearlo. Lo amarraron y si no es porque la policía llegó, era hombre muerto.

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La policía hizo las averiguaciones, registró la casa y encontró una carpeta. Era el informe que ella había preparado. Por eso huía. Por eso dejaba todo atrás y quería comenzar una nueva vida. Por eso quería olvidar todo lo que había ocurrido, cambiarse el nombre, construirse una nueva identidad. Pero había una cosa que no podía dejar atrás, una sola cosa que la perturbaba todas la noches y la perseguiría el resto de sus días. El recuerdo y la conciencia de ser culpable del crimen que no cometió.

English version

She knew the day would come and she could not wait any longer. She wanted to get out of this predicament as quickly as possible and leave everything behind, start over, go to another city or another country, change her name and let oblivion take care of the unwanted work.

She started doing favors and when she saw that she could make some profit, she started charging. At first the work was simple and she didn't charge much. However, as the orders grew, so did the price.

One day someone asked her to spy on his wife. It was the most common thing, jealous, maniacal, psychopathic couples.

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This was the latest case. The man asked her to spy on his wife, to know everything she did when he left home; he wanted to know who she saw, who she talked to and even who looked at her. He wanted daily reports and she replied that this would not be possible, that she could give him reports every two days because she had other open cases and could not dedicate exclusive time to him.

She never thought that the tragedy was going to splash her. She never imagined that the information she gave that man would seal that woman's fate and her own. So she got down to work.

To find out what she was doing, she hired several children without a trade to tell her everything and to follow her every move. The children were easy to buy, since their pay consisted of trinkets and, once in a while, money.

Two weeks passed. The reports were delivered on time. The man seemed more and more irritated by what she told him. He found no complaints about his wife. She always dressed well, with decorum. She went out shopping, greeted the neighbors, went to the store, and although one or another would compliment her, she never turned around and never responded to them.

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This was what bothered him the most. He wanted nothing to do with compliments, to be seen, to be desired. He never told her what his purposes were for spying on his wife, but she knew. It was always jealousy, the only thing she didn't know was that this man's was psychopathic jealousy.

The contract ended. She turned to other pursuits, to finding out about other people's lives, to making money from what was originally purely a hobby. It was then that she realized that her work was dangerous.

A few days later she heard screams in the street. It was a fight. She went out to the balcony of her house to see in more detail what was going on. It was the man fighting with his wife. Driven by the outburst of jealousy, he was complaining to his wife why she was allowing other men to see her and say such things to her.

She, at first, tried to calm him down, to make him see reason. The man would not listen to her arguments, her screams were powerful, and she cried, trying to speak, but he would not let her, until he took a gun out of his pocket and shot her.
The man flinched, it took him a few minutes to realize what had happened, and he came to when the neighbors grabbed him and began to beat him. They tied him up and if not for the police arriving, he was a dead man.

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The police made inquiries, searched the house and found a folder. It was the report she had prepared. That's why she was running away. That's why she was leaving everything behind and wanted to start a new life. That's why she wanted to forget everything that had happened, change her name, build a new identity. But there was one thing she couldn't leave behind, one thing that troubled her every night and would haunt her for the rest of her days. The memory and the awareness of being guilty of the crime she did not commit.

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)