One day I was wandering down the street. I only hoped I wouldn't run into someone as I walked down the street towards times square. Everyone I passed seemed to be staring. It's not as if I wasn't like any other New Yorker. Aside from my bright red rain coat, I was like any other. Attempts to stand out were all I had. I was average. I was boring. There is no way people would know what lay behind my green eyes. The eyes of a killer. I was like any other. Only the fact was I wasn't. I watched them fall. Fall to my hand. Fall to the revolver. Fall to the ground, with only a thud. I loved my family. But they knew to much. Knew how insane I have become. I look like any other New Yorker. The only thing different about me is my red rain coat. I love the color red. It's so warm. And it reminds of them falling. Like any New Yorker, I am unreadable. Like any New Yorker, I have seen my share of violence. Only difference, I continue to see it. But it's inflicted by me. You wouldn't know it but behind these green eyes is a killer. I continue my walk down the street. Everyones eyes staring at the girl with the revolver to her head.