• I ask myself everyday, Josh, when will you finally do something good with your life? As I sit there and think about the question, nothing comes through my head but a dark cloud of depression. Memories take my thoughts through a rollercoaster. I think of everything that had happened over the years. All the time I wasted.

    The past is the past though. You can never change whats happened. However, the future holds many oportunities. Most I, myself, can never enjoy. I can never have a family, I can never find love, I can never make friends, all because of the past.

    There are the good times as a child. I remember my parents. My mom didn't have a job, but to her, I was the world. We did everything together from swimming in the community pool to playing games. She stayed by my side whenever I was sick or hurt and helped me through it all. My father was a little different though. He worked full-time as a sales representitive for a business called Nosta. Everytime we got the chance though, he would take me fishing and camping. He even took me with him on a business trip to the UK once, just because I wanted to be with him.

    Then there was that fateful evening in November..........

    We were all watching a movie my mom had rented. I could remember it was a comedy movie. We all laughed so hard through part of the movie. But just about at the end of the movie, the power went out. My father got up to go check the circut breaker outside. And that's when it happened.

    Suddenly flashes were coming from the window and loud noises followed before my father even got close to the front door. They were gunshots. My mother screamed as the firing started. My father immediatly fell to the floor. He was dead from the very first shot. My mother went over to try and save him, but a clip was unloaded into her and she fell right on top of my father, dead. I got up and ran to them screaming of fear, not knowing what to do. The gunman aimed at me, and fired one round. I was shot, right in the stomach . The pain was excrutating. I fell on my knees and got one look at the gunman. He was tall with red hair and a scar accross his right eyebrow. I passed out on the floor inches away from my parents.

    The next morning I woke up in a hospital with the police asking me questions left and right. I never said a word to them. I never even spoke for 3 years just because of the incident.

    But now, 12 years later, I'm ready to go find the gunman that had brought all the pain I feel today and return the favor. The hunt, is on........