As I the slipped the straight razor across his throat I couldn't stop seeing the dark red liquid pattern sprayed across the wall as the abstract painting that hung on the wall of my grandmothers house I would stair at that painting for hours and hours just getting lost in its beautiful complexity. The smell of fear that quickly took over kept bringing back faint memory's of mothers funeral the felling of uncertainty of not knowing if we would ever see each other aging and the thought that some day I would be in the ground just like her. The blood that splashed my face gave me the same copper taste I would always get when father would hook me up and do his shock experiments on me. But all I can wonder now is if he fells the same pain that he maid me fell.
-T.M