How I Once Committed Murder 🩸🔪

Based on True Events

Before you cast judgment based on the title, let’s be honest—at some point in our lives, we’ve all been guilty of murder. Maybe not the kind that ends with police tape and flashing lights, but a more insidious form—the kind where dreams, passions, and ambitions are left to bleed out in silence. Whether it’s premeditated or accidental, in the eyes of a judge, it’s all the same.

I remember it like it was yesterday—the fear in her eyes, blood trickling from her neck, and the weight of regret crushing me as I watched her life drain away. By the time I was done, nothing remained to be buried—only her name echoed in my mind, haunting me with nightmares, sleepless nights, and paranoia for the next five years. On January 1st, 2020, while the world was celebrating new beginnings, I was busy ending a life.

It was a perfect day for murder, just like my wife had said. A new year, a clean slate, and no witnesses. The streets were empty, and the air was filled with the distant sound of fireworks and celebrations. The irony was cruel—while others welcomed a new chapter, I was about to close one forever.

Let me take you back a bit. I first fell in love with her in 2012, fresh out of primary school. She was mesmerizing—the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. It was love at first sight. I made a promise to her, a vow that I would always be there no matter what. She became my everything. But in 2013, I met someone new—someone I’ll call Lady Y. She was beautiful, but not like my first love, Lady X. What began as a harmless friendship with Lady Y slowly turned into something deeper, yet I couldn’t bring myself to let go of Lady X.

Years passed, and the tension between these two loves grew unbearable. Jealousy came knocking, and Lady Y became possessive. We argued constantly because I spent too much time with Lady X, and my attempts to balance the two were tearing me apart. Eventually, I started breaking my promise to Lady X. Piece by piece, I compromised my happiness, choosing Lady Y more often. She became my wife, and Lady X was relegated to the shadows—a secret lover who only saw me in stolen moments. The guilt gnawed at me. I was trapped in a marriage that drained me, existing but not living.

Then we had our daughter, and Lady Y demanded my full loyalty. She convinced me it was time to let Lady X go—for good. She manipulated me, using our child to drive her point home. Reluctantly, I agreed. We planned the perfect murder, and on January 1st, 2020, I lured Lady X to our home. She came willingly, unaware of her fate, her smile radiating warmth as she hugged me. I held her tight—too tight—then struck. Twice in the back, a slash to the throat, and a final, brutal act to make sure she was gone forever. I watched the light fade from her eyes while Lady Y whispered, "I’m proud of you, baby." We disposed of her remains—ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

But the haunting began. I was jobless, purposeless, and the ghost of Lady X tormented me. I was hollow, guilt-ridden, and drowning in regret. For three years, I struggled to survive, a prisoner of my own betrayal. Then in 2023, Lady Y finally had enough. She left me—took our daughter and walked out of my life for good. Alone, broken, and packing my belongings, I found a note in Lady X’s handwriting:

"Dear Bond,

I will always be with you. I’ll never die unless you do too.

Signed, Lady X."

The words cut deeper than any knife. But as I wiped away my tears, a realization dawned. I stepped outside, the sun warm on my face, and called out to her. From a distance, I saw her—Lady X, my first love—walking toward me, radiant and alive. I ran to her like a child chasing a long-lost dream. I hugged her tightly, vowing never to let go again. Lady X had never died. She was LA'BOND—my dream, my vision, my passion. We CONNECT

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You see, we’ve all committed murder at some point—perhaps not of a person, but of dreams. How many of us have sacrificed our ambitions for comfort or the demands of others? You had a dream, but a job made you complacent. You had a passion, but a partner convinced you it was unrealistic. Piece by piece, you abandoned the very things that made you who you are.

Today, I challenge you: What dreams did you kill five or ten years ago? Was it worth it? Are you ready to bring them back to life?

Let me know in the comments.