Why should I bring happiness to those I loathe by obliterating myself, when I can make them miserable just by existing?


Twisted (ed. Anvil Books, 1995)


Why should I bring happiness to those I loathe by obliterating myself, when I can make them miserable just by existing?

Why should I bring happiness to those I loathe by obliterating myself, when I can make them miserable just by existing?

Why should I bring happiness to those I loathe by obliterating myself, when I can make them miserable just by existing?

Why should I bring happiness to those I loathe by obliterating myself, when I can make them miserable just by existing?