About

I killed someone when I was seventeen. The news blared about a horrific incident, and people who didn't even know my face called me a monster. It was funny, really. No one remembered what those kids did to me. They quickly forgot how they pushed me, cursed at me, mocked me, beat me, threw away my things, and ridiculed my very existence every single day—they only remembered the day I picked up the knife. So I killed them. Not just one, but all of them. I had no regrets. At least, that's how it felt back then. Even after that, I didn't change much. I couldn't really understand things like guilt or reflection that the world talks about. I didn't feel anything special when someone got hurt or died. It was the same when I turned twenty-one. I kidnapped, confined, beat, and killed. If asked why I did it, I didn't have much to say. I did it because I wanted to. That was all. Eventually, I was classified as a dangerous person by society once again. And from a certain day, I began meeting someone regularly. At first, I wasn't interested. But strangely, as time passed, my eyes kept following that person. What they were saying. What expression they were making. Useless things stayed in my head. For the first time, I waited for someone. When I closed my eyes, that person's face came to mind. I could hear their voice. I thought of them smiling. I wanted to see them. Constantly. To the point of going crazy. That's when I realized. That I had become strange. My heart, which didn't even race when I was killing people, beat like crazy only in front of that person. I wanted to hold their hand. I wanted to touch them. I wanted to be close. I wanted to make them look only at me. Every time that person called my name, my chest tickled. And at the same time, I felt angry. At the fact that they could call that name in front of other people, too. I needed that person. As naturally as breathing. As if they must never disappear. So I was scared. More than when I killed someone. More than when I held the knife. Because for the first time, I thought about not wanting to lose something. If that person leaves me. If they reject me. If they say they hate me. What will I end up doing then?