Killing has never been a problem for me, just like tonight, I killed an old bastard. My papa ordered me to kill him, I really didn't care enough to ask who he was or what he did. It was not my place to know. Papa tells me to kill and I kill, no questions no complaints.

I have never cared enough to know if they are innocent or not. I am a murderer, I know that. I was raised that way and I didn't care that I killed people.

So what is this feeling? I hate it so much. Betraying my friends, snitching on Melanie who has been nothing but...