Revenge

彼女は笑みさえ浮かべていた。洋菓子屋の静けさによく似合う微笑みだった。この人はも しかしたら、死ぬという言葉の意味を知らないんじゃないだろうか、と私は思った。あるい は、人が死ぬとはどういうことか、何もかもを知り尽くしている人かもしれない、と。

I feel a scream rising out of me, but somehow I stop it, hold it back, and instead I calmly imagine the scene: the knife in her pretty hand; the blade slicing into him again and again; skin rippling, blood spurting. But she's spotless.

The reason she was crying didn't matter to me. Perhaps there was no reason at all. Her tears had that sort of purity.