There was a sofa, a red sofa.
Its seat can be opened just like a chest, revealing a place for storage -a place when I found two gray kittens.
They were sleeping peacefully, they were still baby -around 1 week old.
I picked one of them, grab it by its nape. When I lifted it higher it started to meow.
Such a weak meow voice, I grab its neck harder.
It cried.
I chocked it, stroke its back, then choked it again.
I threw it.
I picked it up, then tied its neck.
With its neck tied I hold another tip of rope.
And spun the kitten like I’m spinning a toy.
Spin, spin, spin. Spinning very fast.
I threw it again, It hadn’t die yet.
It still alive, faintly moved its legs.
I grabbed it with one hand, while one hand opening the sofa seat.
I placed its head, then closed the sofa seat.
It hadn’t die yet.
I push the sofa seat harder, then I lifted it. The dead body of that kitten fall down with tongue out and blood from its nose. Its sibling then came and sniffed it.

It died. I don’t know why I can kill a helpless kitten like that. I do like kittens so much, I often feed and pet them. Maybe you think it’s just a kitten, but I don’t want to see a dead person body inside a sofa.

I feel so lonely. No one think of me seriously. I feel useless. I can’t even express myself. I need impingement.