Readers Note – This Piece Contains Explicit Violent Content

Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. That’s what all her mind could think of. A pitiless killer; that’s what she is.

It is wrong to torture and kill the person who ruined all your life and turned it upside down? Is it wrong to cuff his hands and his legs to a chair, and leave him there for days? Is it wrong to dig a knife in his chest and drive it to his belly button? Is it wrong to chop off each finger of his two hands once at a time; chop them off patiently and slowly so he can taste every bit of pain? Is it wrong to enjoy every scream and every shout that comes out of his mouth? Every tear that drops down his face? Is it wrong to cut him open and leave him bleeding for days? Is it wrong to leave him get infected and experience horrific pain? Is it wrong to make him wish death; make him want to kill himself just because it’s impossible to bear such pain? Is it wrong to make him long for death rather than fight to release himself? Is it wrong to make him wish he never met her? Make him wish she didn’t fall for him?

Everything was wrong from the whole beginning. That moment that he met her, at that coffee shop, by chance, was the first mistake. Going out with her, for a first date, to that exact cozy coffee shop was the second one. Liking the same type of music, the same type of books, the same type of movies, and having the same taste in almost everything was the third. Being attracted to each other was the fourth. Every touch, every kiss, every smile, every flirtatious whisper and wink was a mistake. But the biggest was falling for each other. Falling deeply and passionately for each other.

He regretted everything. Regretted meeting her, liking her, kissing her, holding her between his arms, cuddling with her, memorizing every little detail about her skin. He regretted everything. Not because love made them essential to each other and bound; it’s just that he was unaware of the truth; unaware of the ugly horrific truth.

For her, murder was holy and love was obscene; torturing others was sacramental and affection was sinful. She couldn’t change these principles that were implanted in her head since her adulthood. Even when she tried, when she wanted to, she couldn’t change. The thing is, she loved him. She really did. She was madly in love with him; however, somethings are always above others. Some things will always be supreme to others. Some desires are stronger than others. Her hunger for killing was much more powerful and intensive than her hunger for love. Killing was not something to be ashamed of or punished for. Killing has engrossed her soul and captivated her mind. Murder was far more than obsession. It’s was a way to silence the hunger and the longing for a thing she was incapable of naming.

– Hela


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