[ WP ] You are legally allowed to commit murder once , but you must fill out the proper paperwork and your proposed victim will be notified of your intentions

A cold smile stretches its way across my face as I reread the letter I was about to send to my victim. I had filled out the proper paperwork, clearing out my name and forcing the authorities to back out of this case. This would by *my* final parting gift, *my* contribution to this world. 
 
 Setting down the pen filled with blood red ink, I folded the letter and pitied the poor soul that would get this, but only a bit. After all, he won ’ t have much time to be scared. Sealed and finally sent, I pictured my letter in my head, word by word as I made my way to my destination. 
 
 *This is not a chain letter nor is this a prank pulled by some unsightly teen. This is real. For your benefit, I suggest you to finish this letter. Do not try to run. Do not try to hide. Don ’ t even bother calling the police, I have gotten clearance for this upcoming murder. Yes, it is indeed going to come down to that, my dear friend. I can see your hand trembling as you continue to read this letter, I can see the bead of cold sweat rolling down your forehead as you continue to try and convince yourself that this is not real, that it can ’ t be. Well I am truly sorry to inform you otherwise because this is as real as the table you will be leaning on for support. You might be asking yourself: Why me? * 
 
 *I would have, were I in your place. You might also want to know who I am. Due to the nature of this letter and for the sake of my amusement, I will not give out that little detail, though I will tell you I am not some lover that you have left for the dumps and that you do not know me. This, however, does not imply that I do not know you. I have seen you from afar, seen when you sleep, when you laugh, when you cry. But worst of all, and this is the reason why I had to choose you out of everyone who deserves this sentence as well, I know of the crimes you committed. They are not the crimes of an innocent, they are not a small occasional shoplift or a prank pulled on a friend. They aren ’ t even murder. * 
 
 *No. The law would ’ ve taken care of you if it was. * 
 
 *Imagine a smile on an unknown face, imagine a disconnected hand writing this letter as it puts down each word with conviction and satisfaction. I am not cruel, at least, not in the conventional sense. I am but the monster sent to purge this world from filth like you. Tell me why, dear Collins, you had to go and break your parents spirits and send them tumbling into depression, why you felt the need to wrench out the hearts of so many young women with sweet words and soft caresses, why you have to spin lie after lie so that you can deceive the only other person that truly cares about you? You must think that I am inhuman, pitiless, cold. I am, but I am still the better person. I have no need to hide behind a carefully built façade, presenting the world with a false version of myself. You should be sickened by what you have done. Take note of this, while your bleeds through my hands, slowly trickling out of this world, I will have on a merciless smile. The tool of your demise will be none other than a tool that you yourself had once used in your childhood, an elegant dagger with a fine curved black, a handle made out of ivory with hand-carved patterns on it. Search for it in your house, turn it upside down if that is your wish…but it will be gone, as it ’ s in the palm of my hand right now. * 
 
 *I know where you live and once you ’ re done reading this, because, trust me, you will not be able to stop yourself from finishing it, I will be knocking at your door. * 
 
 *Tick tock. The sand has run out. Your time is up. * 
 
 I knocked on the door and I knew that my timing is right. A spark of satisfaction was felt. I loved a job well done. My victim is as white as a drape and my letter is crumpled in his hand. He looks at me and his mouth forms a silent O as he connects the dots. I push him inside and close the door. No use in scaring his neighborhood, they are good people. 
 
 I press the tip of his dagger against his throat and what for the flash of recognition in his eyes before plunging the blade in. I wasn ’ t lying, he does not know me nor has he ever met me…but he recognizes me. 
 
 I smile as I see his eyes widen in realization. 
 
 “ Goodbye…*brother*. ” 

