Do you recall?

She told me to stop whatever I'm taking.

I was thinking back to the first time I killed something or saw something being killed. Can you remember? I think I vaguely recall. I hated watching mosquitoes being killed and screamed hysterically whenever someone tried to. To me, it always ended up with blood smudged across palms. It made me cry.

However, the excitement of being fast enough to catch a flying insect excited me so. So, one day I squealed in delight when a mosquito flew above my head. I screamed to be carried, to be held up so I could catch it, and smash it like the adults always did. You see, I was only 3. But I wanted, so very much, to be older.

So, I was held up from the armpits, into the air as I flung my arms around, frantic to smash the insect. And as I squealed and squeeked with bursting anxiety, I reached out and smacked it down hard in between my palms. Well, it was as hard as I could afford then.

I opened my claspsed hands and saw the creature wriggling in my palms. Blood was smeared across the middle and it's wings still twitched. I demanded to be put down onto the floor. Torn between the feeling of triumph and disgust, my lips began to twitch and my eyes began to tear.

Soon, I was crying, staring down at the half-dead insect in my hands. At the same time, I proudly held it out for all to see - my very own efforts lay almost still in my hands. I don't remember much about what happened after that but I'd guess I was carried off to have my tears dried and my hands washed, before taking a nap.

The problem is, I don't see a reason to have stopped.