It was truly evil. And while I'm sure that something buried deep inside me feels something akin to guilt, I have no regrets for what I've done. Should I feel shame? Probably. If there was any shred of humanity left within me, I would probably feel something - anything - for the people I have hurt. But I don't. It's just coldness inside.

I should start at the beginning, but I don't even know where that is anymore. How did I become this?

Picture this for me. The london underground. The air is thick with sweat and pollution. The walls are deep with grime and soot from the "london air". Hotter and more uncomfortable than the strongest heatwave, and after a long tiresome day, the weary tread their way home in this oppressing smog of unpleasantness.

So I'm stood at the platform, and 5 trains go by, each one too full to let more than two or three people on. But finally I'm at the front. I will get on the next one, and I will be on my way home.

The train arrives... **thump** - something hit my back! "Move, Move, Move, get on the train you F#&!ing fat bastard" **thump thump thump** on my back. I get on the train and turn to see the ugliest woman, around 40, pushing me into the people, jarring us in like sardines. "Its people like you that stop normal sized people getting home" says the bitch.

I start to seeth. My anger boils, but as my mother taught me, I control it. I feel the burn behind my eyes, my insecurities raging. And as we move station to station I start to plot my revenge.

The train is getting hotter and hotter, and all the bodies are pressed together in a sticky, sweaty, funk-mass of people. The bitch complains about the smell at the top of her voice. I feel like screaming at her.... but I don't.

I wait. i bide my time.

Finally, excruciatingly, we get to my station. But I don't get off immediately. I wait a few moments, I turn to the woman and say... "you deserve this".

My plan falls in place.... and as the doors are closing, i lightly step off the train. I turn, and see that she noticed. I see the disgust in her eyes. I see the utter revulsion in her face.... as she smells the ripe freshness of a fart in the stale tube air.

I don't regret it. Not for a moment.

West

**Please note, true story, slightly embellished. Don't judge me. I did what I had to do. I know some innocent bystanders were caught in the crossfire. I don't regret it. Cold.