7 August, 1987

His blood spattered on me as I watched the life drain from his eyes. I wiped the blood from my hands with a shaking breath, trying to steady my racing heart. My eyes stray, inadvertently seeking any witnesses. But there were none—only the silent night witnessed my actions. The darkness concealed my crime like a shroud and none would be wiser as to who took his life. 

As I looked down at the lifeless figure before me, emotions washed over me. What had brought me to this point? Questions swirled in my mind, but only one answer could justify what I had just done. 

The chirping of crickets snapped me out of my thoughts, bringing me back to the present moment. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, I began to walk away from the scene.

The next morning, people got to know about the body. There was no evidence, no suspects, just questions, questions, and more questions. This murder and the reason behind it was going with me to my grave. I would be damned if I let anyone else know about this.