Without shame

The next morning, I deleted fone numbers and blocked social network connections.  The last thing I want is any trace of evidence to come back on me.  Done.  I have given clear instruction to my close friends and workmates, to slap me across my face if I ever utter her name again, or speak of anything to do with her at all.  

This machete is the only witness, now.  Its cuts are unique and leave scars deeper than others, I know.  Eventually, someone is going to discover this and start asking questions. Even with blood dripping from my blade, I will never admit I ever knew of her existance.

However, I will never forget that night at the hotel.  I will remember it as one of my finest moments.  A mercy killing.  A brave gesture of compassion.  I will never confess in search of glory.  Im not a hero.