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I finally broke through.
It was too late…
My hands were already covered in blood and the laughter from my own throat caught, breaking into a sob as hot tears rolled down my face.
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to kill someone? If you would be proud or immediately regret your decision?
Even if you hated the person. Hate is a word so many people confuse with wanting that person to end. Not wanting that person to exist.
I can tell you now I hated this person. But I also loved him… I had told myself all my life I wanted him dead for what he had done to me. Abusing me… in every way a man could. Not a man… a weak boy who had to make himself feel stronger by picking on someone who hadn't even gotten a chance to grow even a little. Breaking that small child down until there wasn't anything left but a sad… older soul… I'm told I'm so wise and mature for my age. Yeah.
That came with a price, you know… It came from learning and experience.
Struggling with not only outward circumstances… It wasn't just the people in my home or the people around me who wanted to make me miserable.
Even inside I had "others" who… kept me from thinking for the longest time I deserved to be happy.
A single moment of happiness made me feel guilty instantly. I wasn't allowed. What made me so special? What made me deserving of something nice? Anything nice?
Everything grew worse. Especially in the teen years when I learned about… things teens do. I used it all to cope. I used it in all the wrong ways. Not only that, but I got broken even more over the course of attempting that; not only did I break myself, but I broke others. I did everything wrong and it ended up this way… I blamed HIM for it all. Oh god, I loved him… I cried when he got arrested that one time and now after... doing this. I'm still crying. It's not fair that he can hurt me in every way possible... and yet… I still love him. He's still him… and now he's gone. Because of me.
Why did I think I had the authority to take a life?
Even if he had hurt me. We had good times… this was a moment of weakness.
I tried to rub away the tears, but the blood… it stung my eyes. It hurt. My chest hurt and felt constricted. It was hard to breathe and I grit my teeth. The knife dropped from my hand and it just clanged to the floor.
Don't take a life.
Because the most practical conclusion of the situation is…
You'll regret it.
"Miss, put your hands up, that's an order!"
I never wanted it to turn out like this.
"Hands up! Now!"
I bent over instead. I didn't want to live with the guilt of this.
A warning shot went off and I could hear them run forward as I grabbed the knife. My ears hurt… it was loud… But I felt so focused on the knife in my bloodied hands.