My Shiny Knife Slowly Slid Gracefully Along His Bare Stomach. His Skin Making No Attempt To Resist The Blade. He Stared Up At Me In Despair And With His Final Breath; He Mouthed A Long A-Waited Apology. He Fell To The Already Blood-Soaked Floor, Landing Heavily On His Girlfriend. I Had My Revenge And It Was Sweet. Even Now I Remember The Pain In His Boring Grey Eyes As I Walked In On Them. From That Moment I Didn’t Love Him.
I Quietly Knelt Beside Them And Cleaned My Bloody Kitchen Knife On His Scarlet Shirt, Ready To Kill Again.
As I Plunged The Knife Into My Own Stomach, A Series Of Vivid Pictures Flashed Before My Dying Eyes. The First: When I First Met Him, This Made Me Smile As I Remembered His Beautifully Carved Face Looked Surprised As He Said Hi. The Second: When I Walked In On Them. The Moment I Knew I Could Love Him No More. He Didn’t Even Care. He Loved Her And I Hated Him. The Third: His Face As I Killed Him. I Pitied Him For The Tiniest Moment, Then The Feeling Passed As I Remembered What He Did.
He Was Trying To Say Sorry, But It Was Much Too Late For That.
Then I Could See Nothing. I Couldn’t See Black, I Couldn’t See White. I Could See Nothing. Just Nothing, As I Collapsed.

The End

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