Superior Death

I’m going fucking mad! I know it, only a few more insults out of his mouth, and I’ll hit him, I’ll hit him square in the jaw, and maybe if things go well I will break it, that would stop him from fucking speaking again! 1

I sound like a violent person, but the truth is I actually have only been in about three or four fights before, its just that I can only handle so much pressure and insults before I snap, just because he is my boss doesn’t mean I wont fucking snap his neck, and what kind of an idiot reprimands an employee while she has a letter opener in her hands? I mean how stupid can you get?2

Now I am sitting at my desk typing like a possessed person trying to get rid of the hate and anger I feel building up inside me because if I don’t get it out, I know I will kill him. 3

Red, my vision was red. Shadows were all I could see asides from the red haze that enveloped me. I felt something sticky and wet on my hands, I rubbed them together enjoying the feeling, it smelt like copper, and it made me feel dizzy. I opened my eyes, and saw that he lay before me, his eyes were wide in horror, and he stared up at me, his gaze seeing nothing. His throat was slit open, and it was seeping blood down the front of his usually pristine white shirt. I glanced at my hands and saw that the sticky wet was blood also, his blood. Clutched in my hands was a letter opener, and the realisation that I had done this to him hit me. I didn’t cry, I didn’t panic, in fact I smiled. And then methodically and precisely I started to clean the evidence of my presence from the scene. And the whole time I hummed to myself a happy little tune. 4

(Mmmm the thoughts that go through my head at work.... hehehe)