Obsession, revenge, justice… Do these words serve any purpose now? I try to tell myself yes, since up to now they have taken me to the end of my way… the end of… my life? I decided to go into the trap, obfuscated in my attempts to obtain the revenge and redemption that after so much time I craved… but now I can not even feel a bit of my strength, and the red energy which makes me follow my painful existence, emanates from my soul and surrounds me, leaving my worn body. Before me, yes, the object of my obsession, perhaps my madness or, even, I would dare to say, of my imprudence, ready to put an end to all this, "finishing the work", as they say...

When I remember his bastard nickname he reminds me of each and every one of the reasons why my anger springs up.

Since he appeared in my life, I have not stopped thinking about another miserable thing, not even the most basic animal pleasures have gotten me to silence my inner voices about the day that I would hunt him down. The day I would make him pay for all the suffering I have felt since then. Now, a few seconds before my life is over quickly, putting a curtain on this odyssey, through my head pass all the memories lived since before the destruction that this monster caused in my home, home that now are only smoky ruins, just some more in the wilderness that reigns the world, not very different from all those buildings before the bombs, before the world as my ancestors knew it, burned in flames of nuclear radiation, seizing every glimpse of life, just as Razzler finished with those I loved.

It seems to me stupid and incongruous that a few moments after my end I give myself to think how everything happened, and how I got here, but I guess I can not help it.

After all, my mind has not rested for a single second since that moment, it was not going to be less now, like a mental diary that would remind me before I die why I did everything I did.

And why have I done it? For various reasons, anger, justice, revenge, even sadism... but the most important of them all, redemption. The balls that I did not have then to kill them all when I could, I did not pull the trigger two seconds before one of their looters knocked me out and I allowed them, impotent, to cut the throats and mutilate one by one all those who filled my heart.

Of how without being able to do a shit, they put an end, laughing, to the only thing that made me feel safe in this rotten and infected world. As my little sister screamed my name for what seemed like endless seconds before that beast silenced her, forever. My name... it's funny, but now it's hard for me to remember what it was. I just remember that they call me Silas.