I was yelling, screaming and whatnot. It was my greatest mistake to seek help from my professor. My hands painted red, was the second. While I was hitting the line to reduce my paranoia, there was someone walking by the window, as if he wanna see through the translucent glasses. The cat scratching the television top scared the damn out of me, but I can't complain. When even my own family discarded me, it was our professor who opened his arms. Deep inside I knew, he will not sell me out, but brain works differently. God has programmed it to suspect. The doorbell, someone was continuously pressing it. I was sweating profusely. Please, no professor. I begged him. I've committed a sin. He was so dear to me, that I confessed. But I could see him ignoring my cries. Half an hour ago, a customer to ignore me. I was trying to sell her a teapot. The teapot was so elegant. It was my dearest. I used to personally clean it after opening my shop. While I was telling her about the piece of art, she acted as if she doesn't care. How could she? I've never seen someone humiliating my teapots. And she didn't stop here. People around me said it was a mistake. But I could see in her eyes, she hated that teapot. She knowingly dropped it down. It infuriated me. I was feeling as if someone poured boiling water on my head. I couldn't digest it. Picked up the sharp broken piece from the teapot, which she broke so heartlessly. I don't know what was in my head, but I couldn't take that. I penetrated the sharp edge of the teapot into her neck. I did it. I did it deliberately. I continued to take my revenge of my teapot until she dropped breathing and she stopped breathing. My heartbeat rushed faster than ever. I felt the adrenaline swimming in my veins. The staff of my shop tried to stop me, but I couldn't let go of that sick bully girl who broke the masterpiece of the century. People these days do not appreciate art, but I do and I'll never let anyone humiliate art. My confession. While I was crying my heart out, professor wasn't listening. Professor has always been my idol, but how can he ignore my words? And my words for what? Someone who's on the opposite side of the door? This infuriated me. As he was approaching the door to see the guest, it was my time to punish him. No one should ignore me. I'm the chosen one. I pulled out the .45 pistol. Professor approached the door. He opened the first latch. I controlled my breath. He moved the door's security chain. I loaded the pistol and pulled the trigger. I know there were cops on the door. The maniacs in jail have been brainwashed. They know nothing. Someone told them the neighbor granny came to return his teapot, which I filled with professor's blood.