Revenge is something quite harmful to the soul. It brings destruction and grief to the light of everything , giving the world a bitter scene in anyone's mind. This cruel scent of emotion was planted, like a bright colored flower, on the mind of a now sadist man. He was a man that used to be happy and content with his life, a man without worries or stress. He had what he needed and wanted in his life, he had his family. They meant everything to him and when a tragic accident killed his wife and oldest son he was devastated. The only console to his Grief ,was that his youngest child had survived along with him. This caused him to spoil the child extremely, but he didn't care, because to him she was his joy ,his life. The man remembers the child, his child always, like if perhaps those memories will bring her back. She died of cancer at the age of nine. He remembered the day his treasure has color a picture with her favorite crayon. She had been so proud of it , she spent the day drawing five others like it. He remember how she smile when she learn how to tie her shoe lace and how he always gave her a jolly rancher , before dinner, because they were her favorite. Sadly with all those memories, he also hade flashbacks of the day she left, the day her life had extinguished. Her bright blushing face had turned pale and cold, her eyes were no longer dancing with laughter and the smile that she always wore was lost. At first when his heart was just starting to break, he couldn't stand to be in his house. It had too many, memories of his loved ones , and it was also a constant reminder that he was alone. Soon though, he started to be able to go in for more than an hour, and soon after that he had build a wall strong enough around his heart that he could live in it again. Well if you called it living, he was so sad now that he was practically dead himself. His heart was never the same and neither was he, this might have been the reason that soon all that was happy in his head was dark. He became angry and disgusted with the world that soon he wanted to blame it for his misfortune, even though he knew it was useless to do so. He wanted revenge for the dead of his loved ones that he came up with an idea. He thought about this idea of his, when he was drinking his morning juice that always had a defected lid. He thought about it when he did his paper work and often got paper clips stuck to one another, and he thought about it in till one morning while kicking a plastic bottle with a rock inside it.His cigarette had burn out and he was still on edge, even though that had been his fifth, he never been much of a smoker, but people change. This idea of his had been glued to his head, and with the days of sorrow that still linger in the air, he had grown to like it. This is how now he stood in an old abandon ware house, looking at the doctor who had supposedly been helping his daughter while she was alive. The doctor was taped to a chair and was bleeding out of his head, he was dead now, but he still heard the screams that had puncture the air just moments ago. The doctor had been his sixth victim. The man was now at peace , like his victims and his family. He had been his last , he could finally rest ,he, the last victim......