I have a confession to make.
Not because I want forgiveness, and even less for wanting to
go to heaven.
There is no heaven for people like me, but I was assured
that there is no heaven for the people I touched either.
I confess only to boast about what I have done. I am proud
of my accomplishments and I want everybody reading this to
know.

I am a murderer of many.
I took their lives with many different weapons too. When
time permitted I even chopped them to pieces and kept their
heads as trophies. I carried their bodies on my back to
place them somewhere they wouldn't be found with ease. I
took their clothes as memoirs and drove away in their cars
pretending to be them.

Speaking of cars, amongst all the weapons I've used, I like
cars the most. I use them to randomly run over people on the
street. You should know that I make no exceptions about my
random killings... I'm not picky when it comes to the lives
I take. I ran over old ladies, children, dogs... it's all
the same to me.

I like money, but I wouldn't say that that is the only
reason why I do the things I do. I once bought a crowbar
from a fat fucker for a dollar. It was the same crowbar he
sold me that I shoved right in his eye... I got my dollar
back.

I do spend my money. Some of my missions required me to hire
people to do what I tell them to. Some of which admired me,
some of which hated me. Some I betrayed, some have betrayed
me, but it all matters nothing because none are alive.

While being in command I did abuse my powers for my personal
enjoyment. I sent my people out on missions I knew they
would not return from, and watched them as they were taken
down by enemy fire far more superior to theirs. I watched
with pleasure, they died in agony.

All this happening in wars on different soils, I'm not too
worried about them coming to get me. In fact, they tried
once as I recall. My memory is quite brittle when it comes
to remembering general facts such as which country I was in
at the moment. I have what you call a 'selective memory'. I
can remember what they wore and the sound of their last
words. No idea what they were saying, but probably something
like ''Please don't kill me!''

I should tell you that I sleep like a baby. The people I
killed all look the same to me so it's always the same blank
face that comes to visit me. It amuses me. I find it
pathetic for the souls of those to have nothing better to do
than come and see me as if I'm the only one who ever cared
about them enough to take away their meaningless existence.
I freed them... In fact; I believe that they were made for
me to kill.

There are so many details I can tell you about, and I might
just share them with you eventually because I don't plan on
parting with this place anytime soon, or ever, for that
matter. Allow me just to end this confession with this; my
name is Samuel, and I'm a gamer.