The feeling of hatred grew slowly at first, starting when I was just a child and growing along with the numbers of my age. It started like the seed of a flower and grew to the bud and then to full bloom. But instead of the beautiful colored petels flowers bloom into, mine was ragged and muddied by the blood which soaked through my very being and into my harmed heart, a heart which no love could heal. The knife I held was made of the sharpest steel ever made by man, one so sharp that a mere glance could tear apart the unseen and the unspoken, so sharp that a mere glance could kill you...

And with no regret and no pity, it will, I will.