I dream that I killed you.

I dream that I killed you. It was swift, adrenaline driven and surprisingly satisfying. The thing I remembered about this was that I was so angry, so hurt and all I want to do is kill. Rage does things to you in case you didn't know.

I remember turning to face you and obviously my face displayed rage as my eyes shot daggers. You turned and started running. The sensation of running after you was weird, floaty but aggressive at the same time. I ran faster while you ran like a slug. I caught the side of your sleeve and somehow I teared off your whole shirt. I caught you in a headlock. You struggled very feebly. It's funny to see how your efforts are not and will not be helping you. I squeezed, closing off your airways and watched you gasp for air like a fish out of water. I enjoy the feel of slowly draining the life out of you but it's not horrible enough, I feel.

You turned purple. You gave up and you knew that you were gonna die. And at that point, there is no fun in this anymore. There is no satisfaction in killing someone who wants to die. So, I let go.

You breathing, wow, I really did not want that. You choked and coughed, you look absolutely terrified but grateful. You turned to look at me, your eyes gave you away. You wanted to know why I didn't kill you, why I changed my mind.

"You see, my dear," I cooed,

"The mind can be persuaded while the heart might be a completely different thing. I believe some people deserve a second chance," I said as I cupped my hands around your face.

"But you don't." And I snapped your neck.

You laid lifeless on the ground, Your face forever frozen in that state or horror and shock. I nudged your foot, yep, dead.

I dream that I killed him and it was the most satisfying feeling I have ever had.