Two fingers

John Smith…one of the first pilgrim…the most famous name in the united states...everywhere in the cover of the indecisive murder. The time we spend together was like a dream…Mr Smith and his student. No matter how bad I could be, no matter how suspicious I could be…he was nice, kind, perfect with me.

He touch my heart too fast, I loose control I think…

Months, for months he teached me the shakespeare language, but with an american subtitle. Always with a smile, everytime coming closer to me. Nervertheless, he was to know ! The agency told him that I had a incurable and contagious disease. It wasn’t pity…it was…Compréhension…understanding !! He made me believe that it wasn’t my fault. He smiled to me again and again, like a father who look at his turbulent kid and just say : « I love you for that ! ». I surprised myself smiling, laughing, forgetting…because on his face a angel drew the love of everything, the love that he give me slowly but forever. I still feel his humanity when I listen to a british english…smooth, gentle, strong, unforgetable…

One day, he was teaching me I-don’t-remember-what with this passion which used to animate him like a muppet under the pen of Jim Henson, a kermit smart and not green…and I felt loved like Miss Piggy, the porc, the dirty selfish and bad temper pig, the money box, never empty until the antidote will be find…not tomorrow the day before…I know he never tought of me like that, but I also know that I was his food on his table…if only he ate me…if only he hated me…

« Plume are you ok ? he asked me. ». I stayed silente, looking at him for some answers. I just didn’t feel well because the english was still a strange language to me. All of his words was just a big messy puzzle but not even one piece connected to another. I knew the meaning of what he said to me, every single thing, but I finised to fell numb, like if my life…spending hours and days in observation in a very hide and seek clinic…was only a movie, very scary but not so good…without haemoglobin, just ketchup. And John’s attention was the worst thing ever…He was wasting his time with me…He was to close from the disaster…to close to me…his smile didn’t belong to me, he belongs to someone pure, someone nice, not an evil demon apocaliptic like me. I tried to warn him… « I’m a lost cause, John ! Lost cause… »I repeated to him in buckle so that he can hears but he was to confident and me. « You are a beautiful young girl, Plume, you never killed anybody…of that, I’m sure. Accidents, its only accidents which put me on your road. You’re not bad, I can tell you. When I look at you, I don’t see any wrong behavior, just bad luck. You’re not a lost cause, fenchie, you’re just lost ! ». His voice ran into my ears as fast as a TGV and I could not stop admiring him. My lips followed the rhythm of his mind but the meaning was too far from me. I could not catch it !

« I don’t understand you ! I answered, desperate.

-         You will ! ». He caught my chin between two fingers to make it stop shaking. I had no time to stop him. I tried to pull him away but it was too late. Two fingers…only two fingers in my bloody damned skin. I know he had no pain…He probably even didn’t feel anything. His smile stayed on his face like he didn’t care about dying…I recalled to scream so loud…I couldn’t breath…he fell down on his knees and that was it. Non…Non…No…I can take it…thinking of that…his eyes closed themself. I still felt his fingers on my skin like he burned it. My throat scratched me. For once more, I was guilty of not be careful…I was guilty to live…My hands was shaking like my mouth…my eyes started crying for the first time of all my darn story…I never wanted to have John has my second victim but I think I was too in love with him to stop him when I thought his was up to kiss me…I even couldn’t stop him to kill me…but I killed him first !

Two fingers in my chin. Two fingers…that all it need to die for ?!

He can’t tell me anymore that I’m not a monster…’cause I am a monster.

I already killed two people I loved, -to death, right, but not to they death !-, I never wanted to love somebody again…I didn’t want to touch somebody again and let somebody touch me…but after that…after that…the organisation told me that I have potentiel…

They told me that I have potentiel in the dead body of my english teacher, my second father, my incestuous love…my last love.

Because a dead person can not love, can she ?