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A Murder

“I killed a man when I was 17. For weeks and months I was certain that the police would come after me. They never did. I read about my murder in the paper, but only for a few days, then it was never mentioned again. Apparently he had no family and few friends. He just lived his miserable life and no one missed him. I tried it again and again. Same result. So, I guess that, all in all, it is as if I never killed anyone. And when you are gone, no one will miss you. Your co-workers will be busy hunting for the next client, and your clients might look for you at your usual corner, before picking up the next girl, and soon, they will have forgotten that you ever existed. You will be less than a ghost. So, give me a reason why I shouldn’t do this…”
The girl tied to the chair tried to fight her way out of her restraints. The man smiled to himself.
“That was a bit dramatic, right? I was speaking rhetorically, offcourse, I was not actually giving you a way to escape”.
The girl tried to scream, as he came closer.

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