“If only this world shown me a little more mercy, I wouldn’t have killed all those people.” His voice trembled as he recalled the faces of his victims, each one a reflection of the life he wished he'd never led. Regret gnawed at him, consuming the rare moments of peace he found amidst the chaos. But it was too late for regrets. Their ghosts haunted him, whispers in the dark corners of his mind, unrelenting in their pursuit of justice. Drove him crazy. Yet, amidst the clamor of his guilty conscience, he found solace in one stark truth: nothing could change the past. It was a cold, unchangeable reality that wrapped around him like chains forged by his own actions. As he sat in handcuffs in the dim, sterile interrogation room, he realized that his fate was no longer his to decide. The detectives sat listening to his confession. Their eyes bore into him, searching for traces of remorse or humanity. But there wasn’t any. Remorse? They deserved to die for what they did. An unrepentant fire lit his eyes, a testament to the vicious cycle of vengeance in which he had become ensnared. “Life’s unfair,” he mumbled, more to himself than to the detectives, “and I just made it a little fairer.” The room fell silent, heavy with his admission. Outside the rain began to fall, a steady drumming that mirrored his racing heart.