I stared in agony towards my dying mother. She was trying not to cry in front of me, but I could see the fear in her eyes. She was strapped to the board and was hyperventilating. Her face had been bruised, easily shown because of its color. "Scarlet, it's alright. I'll always be right here," She pointed to my heart "in your heart. Nothing bad is gonna happen unless you look away." Her fingers were trembling and her mouth simply would not close. I saw the passion in her face and, with that, tears finally slid down my cheeks. The man, who was obviously causing all of this, smirked with delight. He loved death to its extents.

If he was asked to kill a newborn baby, he would simply snap his hands and the child would be gone before you could understand it. He had no name, but there was many odd things describing him. There were words all over his body. And his head was shaven all the way down to his eyebrows. I decided from the moment I saw them slaughter my mother, that I would be the murderer of this man.

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