In my previous life, I died in front of my lover. I felt sad when I knew I would not survive. I am a person walking on hell. Death is a relief for me. My current thought is that it would be nice to be dead and not keep killing people just to live. I thought it was really funny to think that the first person I killed was my father. At that time, my father and I were locked in a room, and my grandfather was watching me outside. They said that only one of you two could make it out alive. I really thought it was ridiculous. I really laughed at that time. This is what I know about family love. I was only 10 years old at the time. The other 10-year-olds all grew up under the care of their parents. But I... I was still wondering if my grandpa was lying to me. I quickly denied it. My father stabbed me with a knife. I dodged it nimbly. I got scratched by the knife, and I looked at the person in front of me who always smiled kindly to me, and now he has turned into an ugly and ferocious look. It turns out that family affection is no longer there when there is a threat to my safety. My father keeps attacking me, and I can only avoid it. Now I am scarred and my strength is almost exhausted. I may die here if I don't think of a way. Maybe it is because I have a strong will to survive. I picked up the knife on the ground and hit my father in the heart hard. The bright red sprinkled on my body. Looking at the dead and ferocious people on the ground who couldn't believe it, I walked out of the room where I recognized the person until his death. Grandpa smiled with satisfaction and said it was good. I didn't say anything and went back to my room. Afterwards, I kept killing people. Maybe I am no longer a human being. Now that I am dead, I can be free.