How does he not see me? I'm driving so fast and at him, surely he knows I'm here. He doesn't recognise me. Of course he doesn't. Why would he? I was just a kid the last time he saw me. He just saw pain, blood, suffering. He saw my defenceless brother and he laughed. He had no qualms about telling me he was going to kill my brother. But he didn't. He hurt him but he didn't kill him. I'll kill him. Not my brother, no way. I'll kill him. I'm driving at him. It'd be so simple, just run him over and drive off. Sure, someone will spot my license plate and report me. There'll be some of the car on him and some of him on my car. But who cares? Maybe then he'll know who I am and he'll remember, that scared seven year old girl he intimidated and allowed to watched the pain he set upon her family. I should slow down. Is it worth it? Maybe for a few minutes but it won't make the pain go away. At least he'll be gone away, gone for good, like he should be. Why should he be able to walk around after what he did? He shouldn't and he won't. Not now. Sure I know where he lives, I'm sure I could find out where he works, though he's probably leaching off the state, who would hire him? No, I'll get him. Sooner or later I'll get him and I'll make him look into my eyes and let him know who I am and why I'm doing this. Or maybe he'll know in the afterlife. He'll be looking out at me from hell or purgatory, somewhere hot. And he'll know. Hell always know.