I am a monster.

My hands literally full of blood, my shirt completely stained, and a body at my feet, said it all.
With each blow, I fell into the reality of what I was: a monster. A man's body, now without a pulse, was the evidence. A man who grew up to have a job and a family.

Life becomes beautiful, at a point where you get that light everyone is talking about, which will save you from the darkness inside. However, that luminosity went out in me again, after reaching it.

The worst? That it was because of something as innocent as love is. And it wasn't an easy thing to do, even though at first I felt powerful and appreciated an adrenaline that ran through my body, feeling pleasure with every drop of blood that sprouted. After everything was over, my being asked for clemency when I heard little voices telling me that I was wrong, that I was a monster.

So there, I wished I hadn't done it. And it was too late, because it had become an obsession, a very painful and pleasurable vice for me. I needed to stop and inconveniently there was no way out.

The sirens and the police lights warned me how far away I had to flee, only I no longer had the willpower to do so this time. Not today.

My body was only immobilized watching as cautiously, officers approached with their guns and flashlights pointed at me, as I placed my hands in the air. They looked at the body next to me, and then at me, as if to confirm that I was to blame.

Then, I smiled with an attitude that seemed insane to them, but the reality was that it was a simple sad grimace, because people forget that even monsters, at some point in their lives, were human.