Proxy

The replica of a collar necklace in red was neatly placed on her slender neck before it rolled down like decadent cherry syrup. Her monologue came to a standstill. The onomatopoeia of her screaming was quitened by a glass with a pointed edge. Edges have a finishing line, her body fell on the floor and those warm palms were getting colder and colder.

Her eyes were open in shock and her lips slightly parted. Her last word was "aarghhhh" even though she had the potential of doing much better than that. I closed her eyes and packaged her in a plastic larger than her size. She was ready for delivery, I put her into the freezer and ran to the bathroom. I retched up a thick tributary of vomit. I washed my face, scrubbed my hands...washed my face... repetitively. It was my first murder without a plan.

She had done no harm to me. Why did I then kill her? I was guilty but "Sorry cannot make a dead man alive", hence an apology was not required. Guilt is disposable.

Satan was on an emergency leave and I gave him proxy for the day.

©songbriti

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