Yes, I’ve murdered someone.
You asked me once if I’ve ever done anything bad.
Well, yes. I’ve murdered someone.
You asked me why I’ve never told you this. I’ve never said anything, because this person was innocent. This person didn't deserve it.
In the end though, this person was insignificant. No one would care if she was dead, no one would even know.
She was a child.
Small and wide eyed. She saw the world as a place with beautiful things. A place that anything was possible.
I put my hands around her neck and squeezed. I felt her struggle and fight to stay alive. But I knew I needed to do it, even if she was all I ever wanted in my life.
The look she gave me right before she took her last breath was not one of anger or hatred. It was full of love and pity. sadness that she would leave me alone. Even as she was dying, she wiped away the tears that were pouring down my cheeks.
How could I destroy something with so much love, so much understanding. Even for the person that was killing her.
You asked me if I’ve ever done anything bad.
Yes. I’ve murdered innocence, and I hate myself for it every day of my life.