I understand that a doctor’s job is to save people … to cure the pain … to make them to stay alive as long as they can, even if they are going to die within an hour. But now, I am preparing to inject penicillin into someone who is allergic to it. He could even die because of that. And I know I will be left in trouble when he dies. As a doctor it is very hard to do such a thing like this. Especially, it is even harder when “he” is the one you love with all your heart. Although my eyes are watery and my heart is grieving, I decided to kill him. He has to die on my hand. It is rational for him to end his life because of me.

            The moon outside is shining morosely. The cold breeze is flying in through the half opening window. I know it is terrifying to kill a husband after a week of marriage. Well, this is what I have planned and it does turn out as I wish to.

            Staring at the syringe which I am holding in my cold hands, “Everything is going to be ended in a moment” I mumble to myself followed by a long deep sigh. I put the syringe inside the flask and pull on the plastic stopper until all the liquid goes up and fills the syringe. When it’s full, I take it out and a droplet of the penicillin fall onto the floor. A crazily smirk appears on my face. All this liquid is going to go inside his body through the veins and after 3 or 4 minutes, it will take his breath. Yep, I have been waiting for a day like this for a long time and now I am ready to do as I plan.

            As I step out of the reading room and walk to the bedroom where he is asleep, I can see him sleeping innocently. I don’t want to do this. I really don’t. But it’s your fault. If you hadn’t killed my family, if you hadn’t set my house on fire cruelly, if my parents and my little sister hadn’t die because of you; I would give you all my love and be your best wife I could be.

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