Well this is my last chance to let my story be told. If this doesn't work then I have no clue what to do. So let's start with chapter one, which you are reading right now, back in 2009 I was part of a group. Everyday we'd kill someone new, not for a specific reason but just so the adrenalin can rush through our body and we get that joyful feeling. Sometimes it'll be a knife, gun, bat, nails, bombs anything we can get our hands on. We called it "practice," practice for getting the big guys; the ones that made "laws" and called themselves "saviors." Some people would even call them GOD or even the government. I really shouldn't be telling this to the world or even posting it on here or anything. But you have to be told by someone. If I get caught then so be it, as long as my story gets out finally.

DAY ONE:

"Scootaloo! Take the fucking gun and shoot him!" Peewee had his fierce face on that told people to do what he said or you're the one that's going to get killed.

We never really had a certain way to tackle up on our target. We would usually just pick up a weapon and spread some blood. But today Peewee decided to change that, he wanted us to be ready for full combat no matter what.

I gripped the bat with my life, my ambition to kill, and worst of all; my hate. Peewee needs to learn to shut the fuck up or this bat is going to go up his you-know-what. I went on my knees and then my stomach. I was able to smell this guy's fear. He's raped six-teen teenage girls and killed seven; I decided to kill him for those girls, but god forbid Peewee find that out. I shifted my weight to the right side of my body since I was left handed and that was where my power was going to come from. I glanced every second at this guy while bringing myself to my feet. Glance. I was on my knees again. Glance. I was in a crotch. Glance. Sprint. Run. Dash. I felt like a dart going in for the bulls-eye on the board. And just like that. Crack. Snap. Scream. Silence. I did it. This guy was dead but I felt no satisfaction.

"Alright Scootaloo!" Screamed Peewee with excitement and thrill.

But I stood there starring at the ugly fat man lying murdered on the floor next to me, he was glowing red as if I poured fresh red paint on him and the edges started to crust little by little. No joy like Peewee. Not even in the excitement of getting another tooth bracelet. I felt empty.