There he knelt in the middle of the smoke filled room, pools of blood and lifeless bodies litter the floor all around him. The faint sound of sirens can be heard in the distance, slowly getting louder, sealing his demise.
He's hurt, bleeding and tired. He gazes downward looking at the gun in his hand; The object that destroyed his family, and transformed his fairy tale childhood into the vengeance filled journey that spanned 11 years.
A slight smile comes to his face as he remembers a time back then, before he knew hate, before he knew vengeance, before this mask became his true face...
...before the world was on fire.
I remember now...
It was a time of laughter
and a time of light,
mother and I spent every day together
waiting for dad's shift to end each night.
He'd take off his badge
and hand it to me,
I would polish it for hours
handling it so carefully.
He was a man of honor
who stood for what he believed,
but guys like him had a number
and his was called way too early.
They attacked swift, and silent
in the middle of the night,
I heard the shots and hid under the bed
waiting for the end of the fight.
My bedroom door flung open
I was afraid to move and I started to cry,
as those blood soaked boots
walked to my bedside.
I saw it was not my mother or my father
then he dropped to his knees,
thrusting his arm under the bed
grabbing at me.
I screamed and yelled
he dragged me out and I tried to fight,
I was bound, gagged
and stolen away, into the night.
I was seven.
