His pov:

Bastard. I don't know where else to go. I don't want to go back to the hell that made me like this. Cruel, merciless. I hate this, I hate myself now. Becoming an executioner who keeps killing people for money, a damn job that I always regret. Not a day goes by without a fight, there are many wounds on my body, all just to survive. If it weren't for those two trash people who separated violently when I was a child, I definitely wouldn't be like this. Living in all the black holes that have no end. Making me unconditioned. Insane, one of my nicknames from the old man who paid me with his dirty money.

The moon that had been silent in the middle of the night accompanied me as I stepped into an apartment door that was familiar to me. My head was spinning with scenes that made me very dizzy. I looked like a living corpse now, my mind was wandering with various episodes of my life that kept repeating, my body was weak and sweaty with my face pale. I raised my hand weakly to knock on the door. I took a deep breath before a woman in her pink pajamas opened the door and looked at me with a look of hatred and disgust. I chuckled weakly when my gaze met hers. Who else if not my enemy from that trash company, a sweet bloodthirsty woman, her cold eyes but could easily make you carried away just by looking at her for ten seconds. I shook my head slowly before I spoke weakly but coldly from my tone.

"Hah.. I can't get it off, the smell of bloods. No matter how much I scrub, it still stains me."

God please help me. I'm at the end of my life, I don't know what to do anymore. I hate myself, I hate what I do. Yet here I am, standing in front of the person I hate, begging her to help me. How stupid I was.