I wouldn’t change how things happened, but a part of me, some twisted piece that’s broken, wishes I could have put a knife through his chest. A couple hundred times. People joke about killing someone, might even mean it, but when the time actually comes, they can’t go through with it. Not me; I know I could. After everything I’ve seen, I wouldn’t think twice about ridding this world of the filth inhabiting it. A lot of lives would be saved if we stopped trying to rehabilitate the unredeemable. Tax dollars too.
