I want to kill someone, I must do it!
If I don't kill him, I won't be able to sleep or eat in peace day and night.
But I can't ruin my whole life for this. It's not worth it. I have to be like a goose leaving no trace, or a leaf falling silently. Get it done and move on, burying myself and my deeds deep.
I know these words sound crazy, more like a dream I can't wake up from. So just take them as my crazy dream words.
And this dream, I've had it for 438 days. 438 days, 630,720 minutes.
I've simulated this dream in my mind hundreds and thousands of times, and I'm confident I can make it disappear.
You think life is tenacious? No, it's actually fragile. A minor cold, a little accident, intense exercise, a slight allergy...any of those could take a life away.
Making him disappear is easy. The hard part is getting away clean.
But in this world, there's always a moment, or a person, that even just knowing of their existence, would make one feel like there's a thorn lodged in the throat that must be removed, even if it means mutual destruction.
The dark of night has fallen again. The lighting at the bar is just right, vaguely ambiguous, just right for debauchery, just enough for a willing woman to unleash her sexual allure.
He walked over and sat next to me, swirling his wine, with a tired opening line: "Beauty, here alone?"
I was aloof, my eyes dismissive. I know he likes the cold beauty type.
Besides, I'm only here for a drink, playing the part of an ice queen.
So when another peacock eager to spread his tail feathers sits to my left, arrogantly asking "Beauty, spare me a smile," I grab my purse, pay up, and walk out.
The heels must be thin and sexy, don't sway your hips, let your waist sway instead, not too much, shoulders slightly drooped, back straight, that's how you walk beautifully. At the door, pause for a moment before stepping into the dark, flip your hair back slowly, turn around, look back at the bar, pause as if you forgot your phone, raise your left brow, head down, lips pursed to accentuate their shape, smile slightly as your hair falls to cover part of your eyes, then turn and walk out flipping your hair.
Get the pose right to highlight your 36D chest; act well, seduce your target flawlessly.
I'm sure as long as he sees me leave, next time we meet, he'll remember me.
The third time we meet will be the day it happens.
I'm only allowing myself four chances to appear at this bar, any more would be overkill and a mistake.
As I turn, I see him immersed in the lively bar atmosphere, looking just as disgusting as before except older.
Surely he's never seen the little pond from my hometown. So he doesn't know, when a dying fish leaves the pond, it will flop violently on land, mouth opening and closing, its life is in that pond, but now it's trapped in a tiny spot on land. Then it gradually stops moving, maybe eyes wide open, maybe not fully closed, maybe mouth half open...
Time ruthlessly takes away its life force. Even if you throw it back in the pond now, it won't change the outcome.
If left in water, after about three hours it will start to stiffen, after ten hours it will be completely cold, then it will silently sink to the bottom and rot noiselessly and peacefully. It will produce various gases, occasionally emitting a bubble or two, and finally float up bloated like a balloon. If left there, it will start to breed maggots.
That's how my sister died!