by Jayant G.
I am a murderer.
I have never k**ed a person, nor do I plan to, but I am a murderer. This dawns upon me from the inside, as I sit here at the computer, feeling it course through my veins and slowly eat away at me. I try to calm myself by saying that it doesn't matter. I try to calm myself by saying that it doesn't really “count”. I try to calm myself by saying that I have never k**ed a human being, I have never k**ed a dog, have never k**ed a cat, a bird, an iguana, ferret, rat.
I have k**ed flies.
I know what you're thinking right now. You think I am crazy. That I am insane to feel the realization “coursing through my veins and slowly eating away at me” about k**ing flies. That empathy is a good thing, but this—this is just ridiculous. But this is bigger than using a fly-swatter to k** an insect. A flick of the wrist, and the deed is done. No, I don't rely on various man-made instruments. I don't take a**istance from technology in the ma**acre of this species, that has been so accepted in our culture.
I k** them with my bare hands.
First comes a slight feeling. Sitting cross-legged on my bed in a trance, gazing into the computer screen, I sense a sudden movement out of the corner of my eye. I suddenly awake to investigate, when I find the small black dot hovering a foot over the desk. Slowly, I turn towards it, with the faint knowledge of what is going to happen.
Next comes the buildup. I can feel my hand twitching at my side, unable to control myself. Rushed, I an*lyze my target, poised to attack it, when I am overtaken by a searing rage, and its fate is sealed. With a quick movement, I grab the fly within my fingers, feeling its internal organs squish within my grasp. I look down towards the carnage I have just created, the living creature whose life I have just ended, the gift that I have just destroyed.
The final thing that comes is guilt. The fly hadn't done anything wrong—I did. Every life I take, it compounds within me, that I am the monster. I am the murderer. I am the savage. I deserve to be squished within the grasp of another tormentor, while he laughs into the skies. This knowledge grows inside me until I can't take it any more. I want to scream out loud, I want to feel the pressure dissipate out of me, I want to wake up from this nightmare which I have willfully brought myself into.
Feeling my knees shaking, I walk to the nearest sink, feeling the cold water washing the fly's gruesome remains off of my skin, in a desperate attempt that doing so will wash away the realization of what I have done.