I have committed several war crimes in the southeast region of Saudi Arabia. My confirmed kill count is 112, with 64 of them innocent civilians. I have trained in the use of several types and sub-types of weapons, including semi-automatic rifles, crossbows, and, with the technique of the Shanai clan, swords. Specifically, katanas. Though my military training is righteous, I cannot resist the temptation of slaughtering innocents. Perhaps it is because of my upbringing. I was raised in a little town off the map called Shoulderdale. It was, quite possibly, the smallest and ugliest town I have ever had the right to see. There were only about a hundred people there or so. The town had been taken over for a long time by this gang called the “Hellraisers” (it was created by a high schooler and soon spun out of control). One day a group of gang members beat up my brother on the way to school. They broke his leg. I reacted by grabbing my father’s shotgun, which he left behind after he left. I killed three quarters of the entire gang. Given it was only around 20 people, but I killed them. But I kept going, and by the end of the day, they were scared off, with the bodies of not only their fellow gang members, but with several civilians caught in the crossfire. My brother included. I was 14. I was supposed to be sentenced to life in jail. But I kept killing, and the only one left was my mother. She killed herself the next day. So I packed up my things, and set off to find a foster home for the time being. Anyway, after graduating from high school, I left my old life to join the army. My bloodlust still remains. I can’t control it, I can only satiate it. I have been court-marshalled and sentenced to life in prison, and here I am, 5 years later, writing it all out for a high school class to teach them about mental illnesses. At least, that’s what I assume. That’s what I was shown in my high school class.