I loved her so, so much, I had to do something about the new guy she was dating.
I planned the deed out for hours. I sat in the parking lot of the mall, searching for Anthony’s car. Jill loved Anthony more than me, and that boy made me sick. He was so perfect, so fake, she never talked to me anymore, for he said everything he wanted her to hear, and left her hopelessly dependent on him. It had gotten to the point Jill had not called me in weeks. So I would leave her no choice. 

I followed him home in my car, but he didn’t think much of it until he was already long gone. I stood outside in the pouring rain, observing him sitting in his bedroom, practicing the guitar. Just listening to it made me want to throw up. Everything about Anthony repulsed me, but I couldn’t help but notice how similar we were at the same time. I climbed up to his bedroom and opened up the window. It was not locked, a fatal mistake on his end

I snuck up on him while he was distracted and tore the guitar out of his hands, hitting him with it and knocking him to the ground. You may believe I was going to bludgeon him to death with his own guitar, but I wasn’t going to kill him in such an obvious way.

“No, no, please! Don’t!” he cried, as I kneeled on top of him. 

“You stole Jill from me,” I replied, digging my fingers into his throat. “She’s known me for years, yet you only met her two months ago, she’s given up everything between us just for you. In fact, now it's gotten to the point that she’s acting like she never knew me. You ruined everything, you pompous little prick.”  

My hands dug deeper and deeper until I heard a squelch. And then I tore out his throat. It was one of the most satisfying sensations I had ever felt; although strange, it was true.

The crime scene looked like something out of a movie. A gore-geous mess, if you will. Once the deed was done, I took a long, hot shower and stole some clothes from his closet. I picked out a striped t-shirt and a pair of straight-leg jeans. Making my way downstairs to leave, I picked up the telephone that hung on her wall and called my girlfriend.

“Hey Jill, it’s been a while,” I exclaimed in a honeyed voice.

“A while? I just got home an hour ago!” she laughed. I missed hearing her sweet laugh.

“Well, Anthony isn’t on the phone right now, sorry Jill.”
“Then who is it?”
“Guess.”

“Benji?”
“Bingo.”

“I don’t love you anymore Benji. I’m so sorry, my heart belongs to Anthony.”
“But you’ve known me for years. How can you just give up on me like that?”


I left the house as fast as I could and sped off,  and while I drove, police cars raced past me, not even knowing that I was Anthony Davis’ killer. The next day, it was all over the news; Seventeen year old Anthony Davis had been found with his throat ripped out, and it seemed that the killer had called someone on the telephone afterwards. Soon, the case went cold, although Jill kept insisting I had killed him, nobody believed her enough to turn me in.


On a cold Valentine’s Day weeks later, I walked up to the still-mourning Jill with a box of chocolates in my hand and confessed my crime to her. She looked so beautiful even when she was ruined like this. She looked at me with swirling, cloudy hazel eyes, a look of confusion washing over her face as I gave her the box

“Benji,” she grumbled. “What is it?!”

“I killed Anthony,” I told her nervously. “I’m sorry babe, I had to do it. That pompous bastard ruined my life.”
“I know you killed him, because why did you call me from his phone!”
“Good point. But please Jill, forgive me, I didn’t realize that I was doing anything wrong,” I lied. 

“You didn’t realize it was wrong? You ripped out his throat and impersonated him!”

“No, no, please Jill darling, it's not that, I loved you so much I had to do it. I won’t hurt you too, I just had to deal with Anthony for your safety.”

“Safety? You call murdering my boyfriend protecting me? He never even hurt you!”
I just looked at her as my face twisted into an expression of embarrassed horror.