Doubting my existence was no longer a nagging topic. I somewhat came up with a new ideology of mine. I know I exist because I did things. I caused things. Like death. Murder.
So, I exist. And so do you. I mean reading is something tangible state of beings can do. Right?
Again with the questions. But this is my story. I should be answering the questions. Not setting them in a row and testing both my and your patience. Yeah, it came to my notice that we haven't been introduced yet. Who are you?
You see! You can't answer that. Because you're not real. And you aren't you. And I am talking to no one, for you don't exist. But if you don't exist, so why do I? Or do I?
I sure as hell exist. Dude, I killed. Did you?
Now beat that. *a victory flick of hair*
YOU ARE READING
Her Name Is Havoc
Mystery / ThrillerLoss. Inexplicable loss. A loss you can't even grieve because no one else admits to it. After all, how can you grieve over something that was never really there? Or was it? Richard never had a high school sweetheart, not even a prom date. He neve...
