[ WP ] `` There are four kinds of homicide : felonious , excusable , justifiable , and praiseworthy . '' Demonstrate all 4 , in one short story .

There are four kinds of homicide: felonious, excusable, justifiable, and praiseworthy; 
 I'm still trying to work out what mine was. 
 
 I'm certain that from her perspective, it was felonious. You ca n't really excuse someone for breaking into your house, smashing down your bedroom door, pinning you down and slitting your throat, holding you close as the final breaths gurgle slowly from your trachea, can you? She had n't any time to have thought of any reason she should be killed. 
 
 I can justify it to myself, I think; I had no choice. I had to. It was this, or endless torment. I could n't let that happen, so I chose the best looking knife ( I was going to treat her right, even in death ), put on my darkest clothes, took 3 spare pairs of latex gloves ( in case ) and headed out the front door. Mum was reading the paper, and barely noticed me leaving, I suspect. 
 
 The jury excused it. They were told I was mentally ill. That I could n't help myself. I got off lightly, I was informed later. I have no idea whether I'm mentally ill or not. Is it normal to feel how I do? How can anyone ever know if they're normal? It's such a silly idea. The very notion of normal is similar to the idea of justice, or attractiveness; it depends on you, and how you view society. 
 
 But to the voices? To the voices, her pained screams were like a heavenly choir. They said the blood, flying in spurts from the Carotid artery, felt like the velvety-smooth water from the fountain of youth. They told me to take off my gloves and touch it. I had to. That's how I got caught, I suppose. I ran home, my hands dripping with the most glorious substance I'd ever seen. They wanted me to cover myself with it, bathe in it. They told me to do so many things. I'd hoped they would have stopped after I did what they said. They did n't. They only got more powerful. I did n't know what to do. Soon, the whispers grew to a chatter, then becomes shouts, then whirlwinds of words, so terrifying. 
 
 I fell to the Tarmac, in the middle of the road and collapsed. 
 
 All critisicm welcome! I hope in some way you enjoyed.
