Rage filled him. Rage beyond anything he could imagine. How dare they.

How DARE they.

A single tear rolls down his cheek, as if begging for release. Yet he wipes it away, squashing the sadness attempting to engulf him. He screams to himself, this isn’t you, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing but the desire for revenge is left.

He finally looks down at the quivering messes before him. Their screams for him to stop, begging for their lives. He had sympathy once.

Once.

They did this to him. Did they expect no retaliation? No matter, he lost empathy a long time ago. He brings his axe up slowly, before swinging it in a rush. He feels the neck smoothly disconnect from the body, his eyes full of desire. Desire to kill.

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Desire to end.

Desire for relief.

Yet no relief came. Only emptiness. He cried this time. No tears flowed. He brought his axe up once again and swung it down. Another head gone.

Still, just emptiness.

He looked down at the last one. She lay there, a mess of tears and dirt. She had stopped begging now. She realized he had stopped listening a long time ago. He brought his axe up one last time, and slammed it down.

The last thing she saw was his eyes. Full of shame, regret. Full of despair. She knew.

He had become what he hated.