Preface

I used to think my life had no meaning. I used to think life was pointless. The family and friends that I knew were haplessly murdered. To see their dead bodies made me go off edge and think there was no meaning to living. I never killed myself though. My family...wouldn't want that.

But I did curl up in a ball despair but I soon got out of it and was able to live day to day life normally, or as normal as I could.

But I swore to myself that if I ever came face to face with my loved one killer, I would kill him/her without mercy.

But as I stare down the barrel of my gun, to this man, why is it so hard to pull the trigger? Why do all these emotions swirl up in me? Why does he stare up at me with gentle and soft eyes? How comes he isn't looking at me with the eyes of a killer.

Why is my hand shaking? Why can't I kill him? Why don't I want to kill him? Why do I love him? Why does it have to be the man I love?

But I must. I must. I have to kill this gorgeous man before me.