[ WP ] When you murder someone you gain their knowledge . You really should not have killed your latest target .

It was so easy to decide who my target was. 
 
 It was even easier to do. 
 
 The old coot had screwed me over before I was even born. Born a hemophiliac. Won the genetic lottery, with all my good fortune. The prize? Factor VIII got to skip out on my body. 
 
 A scrape could kill me. Almost had, a few times. All thwarted by cloth and a phone in her hands. 
 
 I was sick of it all, having to watch out for every little thing that came near me, never having a pet, not being to take meds for the headaches. Not being able to play with friends because I was at the hospital every week. 
 
 I could n't take it anymore, not when I learned she was going to remarry. 
 
 She fell onto the floor, limp as a tissue. My first and only victim. 
 
 I took a deep breath and laughed. My body felt light, and my head was clear. Things I did n't feel often. 
 
 I had done it. 
 
 I did the right thing. 
 
 I did n't let her, in all her irresponsible desires, condemn another kid to a lifetime of pain and fear, a ticking clock that had to be wound back every day. 
 
 The hammer clattered to the floor as it hit me. The knowledge swirled around my head, integrating with my self. 
 
 Her pride as the young man graduated. Her sadness as doctors stuck a crying kid with needles. Her happiness as a calm boy slept, head in her lap. Her frustration as a toddler destroyed his room and again injured himself. 
 
 Her curiosity as she approached the crying bundle in the trash. 
 
 I fell to my knees, too light-headed to speak. I reached over and grasped my mother's hand. 
 
 I stayed for a while, blood congealing around me.
