I have read about murder but the experience when I did it for the first time… The feeling, the sensation, the ecstasy…
Since I was eight, I have always fantasized about killing her with one strike. Although they say I am a psychopath, I see myself as an artist.
I waited for her at the usual spot where she normally passes through as she heads home. She walked innocently as she passed me, just like old times. But this time, she paused and turned back like she noticed something was amiss. I hurriedly wore my gloves in other not to leave any print, then jumped and compounded her with my hands. She tried to run free but I held her tight. She screamed but no saviour came to her rescue. Like the cynical monster that my brother calls me often, I let out a grin and whispered to her ears, “Say your last prayers.”
With one deadly strike, I used my slippers to hit her hard on her head. She died instantly. It was different from what they preached, what THE BIG BOOK demanded… I felt good like I loved what I was supposed to hate.
As I gazed on the lifeless body of the cockroach, I understood that experience is the best teacher.