Staring out at the full moon. With fingertips gently brushing hair away. Heart full of regret.
A murderer at 18.
No one would forget. Name always remembered, in history books, all books, household name.
Everyone would remember, no one would forget, but nobody really knew.
Why did I do it? Why was I tempted? Why did they prey on me?
Weak. I'm weak. I was weak and I am weak and I always will be.
Loser. You let yourself be used for them. And now forever everyone will remember but you, only you, will know.
"No. I've had enough."
The long dagger glinted in the light of the full moon.