"You bastard, you took everything and destroyed everything. What on earth do you want to do? You bastard, I hate you so much. I want you to disappear immediately. Why are you coming back? Why are you showing up in front of me again!" He shamelessly appeared in my house again. I rushed up to tear and hammer him, wishing I could tear him into pieces. Then I picked up a fruit knife and thrust it into his chest. He struggled for a while and then died.
I was lying on the bed alone, lighting a cigarette, staring at the ceiling in confusion, regretting why I didn't do this just now. The reason why I can fantasize like this is because I regret it.
The actual situation is actually like this -
"You bastard, you took everything and destroyed everything. What on earth do you want to do? You bastard, I hate you so much. I want you to disappear immediately. Why are you coming back? Why are you showing up in front of me again!" He shamelessly appeared in my house again. I rushed up to tear and hammer him, wishing I could tear him into pieces. Then he pushed me directly onto the bed without saying a word. That was my bed. I carefully selected beautiful sheets and pillowcases from the department store and arranged it so beautifully and comfortably that it looked like a well-designed trap. The moment I fell, my will also collapsed, so when he muttered an apology to me after messing around with me for a while, I said weakly and coldly: "Get out of here."