As a child, I was taught that bad things only happen to bad people. But as I grew older, I realized that the world doesn't always operate in such a simplistic way.
And then I met her. Her beauty was overwhelming, her confidence and kindness were unmatched. I couldn't bring myself to approach her, to talk to her. I kept putting it off, waiting for the perfect moment. But as I procrastinated, someone else swept her off her feet. A handsome, charming man who seemed to have everything going for him.
But I knew better. I could see through the façade. I could see the pain and fear in her eyes, the way she was hiding her true emotions. So, I followed her. I watched as she went home with this man and listened as he yelled at her. She stormed out in tears, and my heart broke for her.
I was angry, furious that someone would hurt her like that. My suspicions were confirmed: he was manipulating her, abusing her. So, I took matters into my own hands. I snuck into his house and watched him sleep, waiting for the right moment to strike. And when he woke up, I pounced on him, stabbing him over and over until he was gone.
I told myself that it was for the best, that she was safe now, that we could finally be happy together. She loved me, not him. But when she returned and saw what I had done, she screamed in terror. I tried to calm her down, to tell her that everything was going to be okay now that he was gone. But she wouldn't stop screaming.
I couldn't stand to see her in pain, so I grabbed her and put my hand over her mouth. I told her that she didn't have to pretend anymore, that we were meant to be together. I loved her, and I knew that she loved me too.
But she struggled, fighting against me. She continued to scream, so I held her tighter. And when that didn't work, I grabbed her neck, telling her that we were meant to be together. I loved her, and nothing could change that.