AN UNJUSTIFIED REVENGE

I hear whispers around me. "He's an obsessed psycopath." I silently agree. He is indeed an obsessed psycopath. How could he do what he was going to do? How could he be so heartless? I picture him walking, walking towards the place he once called home. I know it really was happening. He opens the front door. He has his key. Walking slowly, he feels his left jacket for the gun. The gun that he had smugled from his own father's home.
He glances back at his childhood. How he had never done thigs that the other kids did so freely. He had to study then. Make a name for himself. He had to go to music class. He had to know it all. He had to kneel before his father, plead his mother, give away before his family.
He was awarded no pride, no respect, no dignity. Nobody understood him. They only understood his cover, a mould he had fit into so perfectly. They never understood the boy underneath. If anybody would have asked him why he was killing the people he loved, he would look them straight in the eye and say, 'Because they killed me everyday. Every single stinking day".
I half heartedly try to stop him but silently I urge him on. Urge him on to take out his frustration. That's the only way left. He walks into the dining room. His mother, father and Katrina are having dinner.
Poor Katrina, he thought, she'll have to die too. She'll have to pay the price for being born in this family"
He takes out his gun and aims it at his father. His mother is screamig something but he doesn't seem to hear. He pulls the trigger. 1 down, 2 to go. He aims the gun at his mother now. His mother is screaming. He pulls the trigger again. 2 down 1 to go.
Katrina is still sitting on her chair. She's closed her eyes and is silently praying. He slowly walks up to her, holds her hands and kisses both her cheeks.
"I'm sorry", he whispers. Thren pulls the trigger.
Katrina falls to the floor. Not a tear on her soft cheek.
I walk out of the house slowly.
I silently agree.
I am an obsessed psycopath.