In Finding Out

In Finding Out

Shocking as this may seem, it is real. At least , my mind thinks it is. I had always wondered why it seemed I didn’t have a heart. Growing up, I was always the one among my peers that didn’t fantasize about my future husband, the perfect wedding, my future child and other things I like to consider mundane. All my friends called me heartless until I finally accepted it. Now I know the reason. I wasn’t created to feel; I was created to think logically and I have every logical reason as to why there is a dead man lying on my sofa with a dagger embedded in his middle and my body spotting blooded hands.
Few hours ago, just like my other numerous attempts, I was trying to find out if I truly did not have a heart. Rico looked genuinely interested in me and like the others that lay buried at the back of my yard, he gladly accepted my dinner proposal.
I had prepared the most simple delicacy I could think of that didn’t scream ‘desperate’ all over it – noodles. He was all smiles when he greeted me at my doorstep with a bouquet of flowers at exactly 7:00pm. He wasn’t like the last one who arrived 30 minutes late. I hate people who do not keep to time.
Rico was jittery and talked too much but I think it was as a result of his nervousness – another trait I hate. He complemented the noodles. He said it was the tastiest noodles he had eaten in his entire life. He lied – I hate that also.
He was doing so well in comparison to the rest and I was beginning to feel relaxed in his presence. I even almost thought my heart was beginning to function again but I guess some things never change. At least, this thing didn’t change.
It was almost 10:00pm but Rico made no attempt at leaving. I might be heartless but I couldn’t send him out just like that so I had to think of a very polite manner to ask him to leave. That was very upsetting. No one – absolutely no one – had ever made me try to be polite enough to think. I was livid while trying to construct a please and a leave to form a sentence.
I opened my mouth to speak 10 minutes later but was cut short as he suddenly moved close to me; too close for comfort. I stood up abruptly, about throwing all my thoughts about politeness through the window when Rico started talking of how much he had been craving my body all through the night. In a bid to further widen my experiment, I got into bed with him. I mean my sofa literally – the same sofa he now lay dead.
Few minutes later, I wasn’t into that anymore and I asked him to climb off me. He was too intoxicated and didn’t listen to me. Suddenly, I felt so irritated with him and made a move for my dagger I always had on me. I plunged it deep into him and he staggered off with a look of horror on his face and fell back to the sofa.
There is nothing else left to do other than to drag his body out back. Digging is no problem to me – it has never been. I smile to myself feeling no iota of guilt. Instead, I feel happy, liberated and confidently heartless with evidence. The experiment is not a failed one. At least, this one stayed longer than the rest. It usually takes just an hour for me to relish in my heartlessness.


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