I have like 3 papers to write lol what am I doing on Fanfiction. XD Enjoy.

...

Sweeney could only watch, stunned, as Shilo ran from his shop. He had been about to apologize for being in prison and missing out on her whole life. He wanted to say he was sorry for not being a real father. That he was sorry for everything. But she'd stopped him before he'd even started. She hates me that much? Desperate despair swept over him, so complete it took his breath away. He threw out a hand and gripped the dresser, leaning on it to keep from collapsing. She thinks I'm a monster.

And it's Rotti's fault, he remembered. The hand on the dresser clenched into a fist. He murdered my wife and turned my own daughter against me. He took away everything I lived for, even my own revenge. If he was alive right now… His thoughts dissolved in a whirlwind of blood. Once, twice, three times his fist pounded the dresser, with enough force to upset some of his bottles and tip over the precious picture frame. The son of a bitch would pay.

Just then he heard footsteps outside on the stairs. Sweeney straightened, took a deep breath, stood the bottles up again to try and calm down. It didn't help much. But by the time the bell above the door chimed, he had managed to arrange his face into a pleasant, businesslike smile. The customer hesitated for the briefest instant, unnerved by something in his eyes. But the barber came forward, sat the customer down, and draped the sheet around him in a hospitable manner. He relaxed just before the chair tipped backwards, and he was pitched headfirst into darkness.

Sweeney was halfway across the shop before the chair even righted itself. The Open sign flipped to Closed as he slammed the door shut behind him. As he stormed down to the cellar, he almost hoped his victim needed something repoed. Otherwise he might have almost felt sorry for him.

Turns out the victim hadn't paid for his heart transplant. Sweeney straddled his victim instead of using the chair, enjoying the way it squirmed under him as he ripped open the shirt. He cut into the chest without killing him first, reveling in the screams. Rage had turned the quiet barber into a sadistic monster. Blood gushed forth, cascading from the hole in his prisoners' chest, and he delighted in it. When he cut the heart from the main artery, blood squirted up and splashed onto the mask. The barber would have flinched, but the Repoman merely laughed with a sick joy. The heart beat once more, feebly, and then went still as it was dragged from the corpse. The Repoman stood and held it up to the harsh florescent lights: a sacrifice to a dark and avengeful God. But from the way he laughed, the maniacal look in the eyes behind the mask, he might have been the devil himself.

...

I think he snapped, hbu? =D XD I had a little more outlined for this chapter, but I like the way it ended there. =P Reveiws are appreciated, stay tuned!