I am a killer!!!

One night, I was comfortably lying in bed, totally engrossed in a book, when in the silence I suddenly heard the soft sound of wings flapping. Knowing it was some insect or worse a flying cockroach, I quickly jumped out of bed armed with my Baygon (insect-killing formula)! I stood still waiting for the thing to make its presence felt again. It felt like time stood very still with me. And then, suddenly, I heard it again so I jumped and sprayed like crazy. The thing was actually a really big bug that looked very much like a cockroach.

Relieved when I saw it fall to the floor, I slowly went to take a closer look. I saw that the thing was on its back with all its feet (3 pairs) raised up to the air as if begging for help. As I got closer, I noticed that it was actually struggling and fighting for dear life. I felt really sorry but it was too late, I've already sprayed (too much, too) on it and it was slowly dying.

I continued looking at the little thing because, for some unknown reason, I couldn't get my eyes off it. One by one, its feet stopped moving (right side first and then left side). As the last of its feet stopped moving, my heart went out to the poor thing. I was so sorry I felt like crying. I don't know, but I really felt scared as well. I wanted to give it a decent burial and all, if that was the only thing I could do to actually show how sorry I was. It wasn't really the first time I've ever spray-killed an insect or anything, but it was the first time I ever had something die right before my eyes. And, it was such a slow death, too.

I picked it up with a tissue paper and threw it out as I knew I couldn't really dig up a grave for it. I couldn't focus on my book any longer for all I could think of were those little legs/feet and that little buzzing sound it made that, in my ears, sounded like "Murderer! You're a murderer!" I fell asleep conscience-stricken and with thoughts of death. I actually cried myself to sleep that night. :(

The next morning, I woke up to a nice, new day. I went on my usual routine without any thought of my "crime" the night before. It was another ordinary day. That night, before going to bed, I started spraying again... this time with not even a shred of remorse. Spraying assured me safety and protection because all the wretched insects would have died when I finally got in bed! This 'act of killing', which made me feel so bad just the night before, gave me satisfaction that particular night. "To protect myself, I will (have to) kill..."

"Real killers" probably go through the same thing, I guess. Or do they?