Problems

I stood over him and just looked at him. Looked in his midnightblue eyes staring into mine without any understanding, with the unmistakable wish to understand.
Understand what? Why?
Is there any explaination? If I would have tried he wouldn’t have undestood.
Maybe I just don’t wanted to. His eyes asked but he could not speak and I was thankful for it.
Thankful for not having to answer or even think about it.
Maybe later. Maybe not.
But this time it was different. This time, this fucking time, I cared.
Indeed I cared how he stared at me while I did it and just did not understand it, not until it was over.
A part of me wanted to yell at him in rage, this part which wished he would have, embarrased me.
Another part of me just wanted to say sorry and cry. Just once. For him or for me?
But this was not the part which won. That part let me stand there motionless and watching how he felt to the ground.
It let me wipe the blood on my pants and watch how his live flow with his blood to the ground.
It was that part which let me do it over and over again, which did not care, which was cold. The part who made me who I am, what I am.
There are things that do not bother me any more and this belongs to it.
Kill what you love and you have no problems with the others.
I can not claim I have any.