Murder goes along way, you could be a psychopath killing for fun, it could have been an accident, or had a short temper. You could even have been protecting yourself, a kill or be killed situation. However despite the innocent reasons as to why you did what you did, murder fucks up your life….
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I wonder, all the time, if I didn’t try to fight or strive to reject, would this blood on my hands never have appeared before me? If I had just kept quiet, if the murder never existed. Would I be able to live my life today without the eyes of the accuser staring down at my soul? Would I be normal? Or would the looks be the same?
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Hi, my name is Ray and I’m a murderer…..
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It happened a while back, three years now? I don’t exactly remember anymore, not when I see the victim’s face every day of my life. I shouldn’t have had the weapon, I was just quite the collector. Some people collect trinkets and bottle caps, I collected antique knives from around the world. I was waiting for my boyfriend to come home one night and well this man stormed in and he- he-
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“That’s enough for today Ray, that was good. Would anyone else like to tell their story? No?”
Like I said before, my name is Ray and I’m a murderer. Not because I’m a psycho or anything. My boyfriend was coming home late from work one day and a strange man broke in and tried to rape me. I always kept a knife under my bed for safety measures, didn’t think I had to actually use it… I got loose and grabbed the knife. I only wanted to scare him but he charged at me, by the time the police came he was already dead. I had become a murderer.
I still remember it so clearly, the fear, the anger, then the emptiness. The relief after the kill, then the sudden reality hitting you in the gut when your boyfriend storms in staring at you bloody hands. What once was worry was now disgust, I know he had wished I had just taken the rape and be done with it. “Let the bad man do the bad thing and keep quiet, life will be better that way”. That is what he said before I killed him, that disgusting man, that rapist. I should’ve listened, maybe then I’d still have my boyfriend, or maybe even wouldn’t have to keep going to these stupid meetings. They treat you like you’re sick, I mean we all are, it’s a place for those with PTSD. We are all broken here, we all couldn’t keep quiet. Now we live in an eternal prison. But what happens when the ones who didn’t zip up decide to one day blend in with your world of silence?
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