You Killed Her

1: You killed her because you loved her.

You killed her because every time the skin around her eyes crinkled and her chin tilted up, you felt your heart skip a beat like a faulty break, and you feared that you would crash and burn unless you fixed it. You killed her because talking to her into the early hours of the morning muddled your mind and your senses and your sense of self and even in the rejuvenating brights of morning, you couldn’t disengantle your thoughts from the poetry of her voice. You killed her because she allowed you into the stained glass cavern of her mind and you saw her for all she was, each piece spectacular and unique and too good for someone like you.

2: You killed her because you hated her.

You killed her because everytime she introduced you to one of her friends, they would look you up and down with pursed lips and sucked in cheeks and disdainful brows, and she would leave you for them even though she’d seen their responses to you. You killed her because she tried too often and too hard to fix you, your hair and your clothes and your mannerisms, as if you were her good deed. You killed her because she didn't want to meet your parents and danced around your questions and blew you a kiss before slipping out the door in a breeze of rose.

3: You killed her because you were told to.

You killed her because when the email arrived and the order was set, you closed your eyes and mouthed a prayer and let your mind wander to all the possibilities and let yourself think about the future and yourself, for once. You killed her because the incentive was enough. You killed her because you had been told and you didn’t disobey orders.

Two truths, one lie.

Which is which?