You walk along a silent road. You don't know who you are anymore. You don't know where you are going, neither in life or on the road. And yet, you keep walking... But then you are running. Running, running for you, and you alone, have made your past a horrid sight. Not even you can bear to look at it. Your childhood experiences weren't so good, but then, they couldn't be stopped from happening. Your parents didn't raise you this way, not even close. Your parents were everything you wanted them to be. And this adds to the guilt, the guilt that haunts you. Your conscience is nothing shy of terrifying when you come back from those split seconds of forgetting about what you have done. And then you look at youself in a mirror. You begin to weep. Not because of your state of physical being, or because your life is literally a living hell, but because of the families. Not just yours, but your victims' also. Your parents, they kicked you out, and now you are alone, but you deserve it.

In and out of shelters, wanting a way to find a way out of what you have done. But no go. Too late kid, it's over. Your life is as good as hell, maybe worse. These years of fighting with yourself are more than punishment for the lives you've taken. You regret the three seconds it took to light your torch, and you regret ever joining that death trap in the first place. The things you thought back then, when you were younger, you think of as absurd, wretched, in an unexplainable way, they were the most hateful things you have ever known. You believed you were superior, and they were inferior. That you deserved to live, and them die. And you blame yourself. Entirely.

When you sat in that courtroom, the parents looking on, hatred and sorrow in their eyes, you wished you would be found not guilty. Today, those parents' faces so clearly etched into your brain, you wished they had found you guilty, and that you, and the entire organization, was locked up to this day. You deserve to be punished, and so, although you are beter off dead, keep living, becuase it is the only way you will ever feel satisfied with yourself.

The KKK was one of America's disasters, and in the midst of everything going on then, against your parents' beliefs and wishes, you got sucked in, you burned a church and killed three, innocent children. You mutilated their bodies upon death, and then drowned them. You hate yourself. Your family hates you, although they think you are dead. And you are the only one who knows who you are, and you never have, and never will, let yourself live what you have done, done for no reason, for nothing at all, down.