They say once you’ve killed somebody, the value of life lessens, and murder thereafter becomes easier.
So I killed someone.
Nobody important, I’d chosen him at random to minimize the chance of being caught. And yes, it was rough. He fought back, for starters, with more strength than I’d expected. But more than that, the act itself weighed upon me.
I was ending another human being. What gave me the right?
But I persevered, and eventually the struggling ceased.
And you know what? I honestly think that, should the need ever arise to kill somebody, it’ll be a little easier…