Defender of the Defenceless
I watched his facial expression as I divulged the chilling truth: I was a murderer. There, amidst the flickering fluorescent lamp, I watched his face contort with a mixture of disbelief and horror. The plan had been simple: reveal the darkest fragment of my past to him, a calculated move intended to repulse and repel any budding friendship or love before it could even take root. His mouth hung agape, genuine shock etched across his features. For a fleeting moment, I believed my strategy had succeeded and I suppressed a hidden snicker. Just as I attempted to avert my gaze and retreat into the solace of my sick bed, his reaction shattered my expectations. A sudden eruption of laughter echoed through the very well-lit room, catching me off guard. "You got me," he managed between fits of amusement, his eyes alight with glee. "I'm genuinely scared now, Brenda. You might just murder me next." Confusion seized me as I tried to decipher his response. What was amusing ab