Campus feels alive tonight. It's buzzing with music and laughter; a typical Valentine's Day weekend. While walking past one of the residences, I pause and watch a party on the first floor through the window. There are paper hearts on the wall, they change colour every time the flashing lights from the ball on the coffee table hits them. The people inside are dancing and smiling.

This is what it's like for regular people, I guess. They can just party, drink, smoke and fuck later like everything is normal. But maybe tonight's the start of my normal. Maybe I'll finally be able to put the past behind me.

A gripping cold crawls up my legs, freezing my feet to the ground. It's like the snow is trying to stop me from doing what needs to be done. I look away from the party, and the ice around my feet cracks and shatters, allowing me to advance.

The wind begins to howl as I make my way across campus, the gusts feel like a hundred knives slashing at my face. I fight to hold my hood down. It took me a long time to gain his trust. I had to convince him that I actually do the shit he does. Fuck, I hate this act. I could never do...that...to any woman. I'm not a pig.

I need to stay focused. Pretending to be a pig isn't the same as being one; I need to remember that. There's no fucking way I could ever become what I detest. And no matter what happens, it all ends tonight.

I'm on the edge of something, I can feel it. If I go further than tonight, there's no coming back; I'll fall into the black void at the bottom of this precipice and stay there.

It's not murder. Only victims can be murdered. It's not murder.

When I get to his residence, I find the door propped open with a rock. I slip inside and hear music reverberating through the hallway. It sounds like it's coming from the lounge at the end of the hall. I turn to my left, head up the stairs to the third floor and soon find myself knocking on the pig's door.

"You made it," he says with a wide smile.

I can't stand that stupid grin of his.

"Yeah," I nod.

He takes a sip of his beer and gestures for me to come inside. I'm surprised to see that his room is very tidy, even his bed is made. I forgot how big the rooms in this building are. But I guess if you have the money, you get to have carpeted floors and your own bathroom all within walking distance of your classes.

"Have a seat," he points to the chair in front of his desk.

My kill sets his beer down by the bed, walks over to the closet, crouches down, unlocks a small black safe and takes out a clear plastic bag. Then he spends the next thirty minutes explaining everything about the product, and how much he makes from selling it.

I'll never understand guys like him. He's rich as fuck, and here he is talking about making more money. Meanwhile, I have to bust my ass off with a full class load, part-time jobs and a shitty apartment that's almost an hour away from campus.

"Fucking a bitch after they have a few of these is fantastic," he smirks. "They don't fight back, they just lay there and take it; you get to do whatever you want. It's great, eh?"

My hand twitches. This fucking prick.

"Nothing else like it," I reply. Those words taste bitter.

"You ever give any of this to that Spanish bitch?"

He's just begging me to slit his throat right here.

"Yeah," I smirk, "especially when she says she's not in the mood."

Sorry, Paola. I would never do that to you.

He grins, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he's thinking about Paola. I'm sure he'd love to get her alone at a party when I have a game out of the city and slip her a few of those pills he's holding. Don't worry prick, you'll be a head shorter long before that could ever happen.

"Alright," he throws the bag at me, "put that in your backpack and let's head out. We have some money to make."

***

When we get outside, I look up and see a starless sky, covered by dark clouds. It's going to snow later. As we approach his silver Camaro, the pig tosses me the keys.

"You can drive," he says.

I smile to myself as I walk around to the driver's side. That makes my job a lot easier.

The drive to the party takes us past the park, and that's when I start slowing down.

"What's up?" he asks.

"We've got a flat."

My kill gets out right after I step out of the car.

"Which one?" he says.

"I think it's the back left tire."

He walks around and kicks it as I stand behind him.

"Looks fine to—"

I wrap my left arm around his neck before he can finish speaking and bring my right arm against the side of his head, locking in the chokehold. I apply pressure until he stops fighting and his arms fall limply at his sides.

***

The pig wakes up when I splash water in his face. He mutters something that sounds like "What the fuck?" from his tied mouth. There's a flash of rage in his eyes.

He hasn't figured it out yet.

I shrug. "I'm going to kill you."

His anger is melting into confusion now. I hold the knife in front of his face before running the blade along his jaw, leaving a bleeding mark on his skin. He flinches.

There it is, there's the fear. He's not in control anymore. He can't do whatever he wants this time.

Tears drain from his eyes as I look down at him. Not so cocky now, are you?

I crouch down next to his head. "You don't deserve to breathe the same air people do. Fuck," I chuckle, "you don't even deserve to breathe."

He's shaking.

"You know what the best thing about this is?" I point the knife at his forehead and watch him squirm. "This knife doesn't give a fuck about where you live, how much money your parents have or what kind of car you drive. It'll slice your head off just the same."

I empty the contents of the plastic bag into the river, pull him up to his knees, bring the blade up to his throat and whisper, "Have a fantastic time in hell, you worthless piece of shit."

As I push the headless body into the river, snow starts falling in thick, heavy flakes. And right before my eyes, the white snowflakes turn into black, smoking ash; a charred smell hangs in the air. I close my eyes and listen to the rushing river. A smile creeps across my face. I can't hear her anymore.

It's done.

***

When I get back to my apartment, I shower, change and then head over to Paola's. I arrive at her door with a bouquet of red roses, a box of chocolates and a card. She wraps her arms around my neck, brings those sweet lips up to my face and pulls me into the room...

I couldn't believe what I had just read.

"That's not what happened that night," I said aloud. "That's not what happened at all."