I still want to kill this cunt I know called Krystie-Lea and I want to make a public event of it. Then I can finally get on with life...
I want to be begged and pleaded with to not kill her, repeatedly apologized to, have them throwing up in worry and anticipation, their hearts in their mouths the whole time.
Thinking they are talking me around, as I stand there with her head pulled back and the knife to her neck.
Lowering the knife as they tell me that "I am not alone" and "It doesn't have to be like this" and 1,000,000 other cliched phrases I've seen in far too many bad films.
My eyes welling up, with remorse and sympathy and a sudden understanding they might understand, them breathing a slow sigh of relief, a sudden reassurance that everything will be ok.
Oh, but I am cruel! It's nothing but an elaborate hoax! Totally opposing the calm and collected way that I lowered my knife, I raise it again, grinning from ear to ear, then I cut her a new smile, she is now grinning from ear to ear, loving the feeling the sharp blade makes as it penetrates and slices open her flesh.
The audience gasp once more, ah hah! And I laugh, she is choking, she is dying and bleeding profusely, her blood all over me and herself, dripping onto the concrete floor, she is dead.
By now I would have probably been shot...meh.
The reason why she is dead is because she is a fucking cunt and has done nothing for people and she is pathetic and cannot take what she dishes out - she is a fucking pussy... And she can't deal with rejection and is a lost, dissolusioned little girl - and she is some fucking makeshift fucking lesbian who can't even pleasure a girl - believe me, I've heard! If she weren't dead she should give the fuck up and go back to guys who I doubt she can even do much for anyway...
BY ALL ACCOUNTS KRYSTIE-LEA IS NOW DESERVEDLY DEAD...