Why did I do it? Same as why I ate my aunt’s strawberries.
They beckoned me, their dimpled red skin glistening. I couldn’t resist the urge to just pick one up, admire its gleam and place it on my tongue – almost ritualistic. Pushing it flat against the roof of my mouth and feel the juices gush out and tease my taste buds. My eyes closed I savour it – bliss.
Doesn’t matter how many times I’m told off, I still do it. The restriction of the whole act adds a little thrill to it. That’s why I probably killed those people, the stigma around it thrills me, the naivety of the people both intrigues and excites me. Their deaths heightened to the reverence of the strawberries.
I get a chance to play God, just like I ate those strawberries, I took away their lives, and in that moment I’m powerful.