Another job almost done.

Weeks ago, I used to feel compassion for these people. I thought they had families, something that was worth keeping them alive.

Occasionally, I would allow one to see into the eyes of death. Show them there is still a chance for redemption.

Each time, they stabbed me in the back.

And so, I no longer offer the chance.

Am I turning into a maniac? Am I losing my sanity?

I... Do not have an answer. For now, there is still one more person left in this house, cowering behind this door.

As I chamber my pistol, I know one thing is for certain.