The neighbor living next door died last night, under extremely tragic circumstances.
The police said he was beaten in the head with a blunt object until his head was smashed and his brains splattered everywhere.
When I received the news, my boyfriend was holding me by the waist, discussing our wedding date.
What I didn't know was that in his backpack was the blood-stained ashtray.
Five years after getting married, I killed him.
He was a company executive, earning a million annually, always impeccably dressed and presenting a respectable image in front of others.
Everyone said I was lucky, had a good eye for people, and found a gem.
I thought so too.
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