"I call for hatred, murder, rape, and killing in the massacre, the Fury, Napalm. "
I have white skin and blue eyes. Long hair that cascaded down on my hips round. My mouth is pink and fresh complexion, a crystalline laughter and pearly teeth as the beads around my neck. Vousne not see it? I am a princess. My father always told me: I AM a princess, a real one. Without dragons and crenellated towers, certainly, but with the delicacy and exeception that earned me my attributes, perhaps symbolic yet royal.
Now that you know everything about me - almost - let me explain. Not that I'm riding on the protocol, no, not that much, I assure you. But there are things that I do not tolerate, you know, my position can not ... how say ... suffer? My father would never have either accepted it. If he knew ...
I have known men, yes, of course, like all women of the XXI century. The princesses also modernize, we must move with the times. And know this: men, I made crazy more than one. But all were a little too ... scared. They left as quickly as they arrived, the poor. You would have seen the loose! For fear of not being up to it, obviously. Men always save their manhood before saving their lives, but what do you ... not everyone has the stature of a king !
But he ... it was different. He had all of those who could wear my crown. A smile of "gold, eyes that bore the world alone. It is on her skin so white, so pure that I thought it might be my new Louis.
Yes, yes, I am the way, do not worry. I turn to this morning. He was there before me, and like that, the air of nothing, he said: "Three I forget you. "I forget you, quite simply, he told me as we drink a cup of coffee. You see how it absurd, is not it? Ask such a vulgarity in the midst of our two sandwich was to understand nothing, you will not contradict me? And then it starts to count the muzzle! And he smiled, almost. And it's his smile that hurts the most, because I know him, that smile is the most beautiful smile, and it does not, it does not smile that used to kill people .
...
But they do not understand why, damn, why they do not understand? They are idiots or what? I am a Princess, a Princess like everyone, like everyone else, and it's still not hard to understand that it does not impose a princess, we can not forget it like that, a snap finger in a hiccup, in a whisper. Do they have lost a piece of brain at birth? And the other, there's another motherfucker who looks at me with his stupid smile, with his eyes fool who does not even have the guts to go on breaking something, no, that is quiet, polite, which think it will be a letter mailed to his coup "At three, I forget you," just because I am a delicate girl, and sentimental, and sweet, and shit! He thinks I will not respond, I will let myself trampled like that, as he wants, he can forget it because testosterone gives him the right to hunt elsewhere? AC, I told myself, that he will see if I'm still his little princess, he will see if we can forget so easily, if we can commit the worst crimes with impunity.
It was there, and it mattered.
1 ... 2 ...
There was no question, no question that I let him.
1 ... 2 ...
Allow me out of his head.
1 ... 2 ...
I found it: the old pistol from the drawer of the kitchen.
1 ... 2 ...
And I have not been told three.
3.
There.
It's not that I shot at him finally. It's on me. There was no greater revenge than to prevent it from ever forget me, do not you think? I know I'm always in his thoughts now. And believe me: it is the wrong start.
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