Disclaimer: All characters belong to DC Comics
I like to play.
I like to take things apart.
I like the look of my hands bathed in blood.
Most of all I like the sound of sirens and the pounding on the locked door as they try to knock it down.
As they try to enter the room.
CRASH!
The crash of the door.
I am surrounded.
I drop my knife.
Rather, his knife.
The knife I got from the kitchen.
My father is with them; his gun raised.
His gun pointed at my head.
I look at his face.
I look at his eyes.
I cannot read them.
I will not run.
I would be shot.
I raise my hands and allow them to take me.