What will sicken me most

A small child can be a ray of hope for the future, but to some they are an object of obsession.
These sick minded bastards are the blackness that is covering our earth, and blotting out humanity.
I know where one in particular lives. he had been a predator that stalked somebody close to me.
I feel nothing but rage and depravity at the thought of my loved one being hurt.
The home of the vile creature lies in front of me, as I emerge from my vehicle.
My heart pounding in my chest, and fury burning in my skull. I knock on the door.
He answers. A gray-haired man, going bald, and clearly aging greets me with an undeserved smile.
I tell him that I'm with the local mormon church and ask if he has time to talk about the good lord.
He lets me inside and closes the door. He steps into the kitchen and offers me tea. I nod yes and he turns and puts the kettle on. I pull a gun from the back of my belt. With a force, I smash him in the back of the head, sending him crashing to the ground. he is concious.
Bleeding, he turns to look at me, his voice frantic and shaky he asks me what I want.
I tell him to suffer. I point my revolver at his knee cap and pull the trigger. In an explosion of flesh and bone, his leg splits down the middle. His cry of pain is muffled by the muzzle of my weapon jamming into his mouth. I viciously knee him in the jaw and break his front teeth. I tell him that I know his story, and his sins and that I am the angel of death. He looks up and smiles, mocking me. He knows now that I know. I sense that there is no remorse, and this infuriates me more still. I look over my shoulder and see the steaming kettle. with one foot on his chest, I reach for the kettle. With my new weapon in hand, I place it on his cheek. he lets out a shriek of pain, but I silence him by cutting his throat with a bullet. He slumps to the ground, bleeding, unable to make a sound. I cauterize the wound with the hot kettle. I lay him out flat on his back, and on his nose I bear down with the hot kettle. I feel the bones in his face breaking and the smell of burnt flesh almost overpowered. I finally snap. I raise the kettle above my head and strike down with a vicious blow. his skull cracks and his brain seeps through. I put the kettle on his chest and leave the house. I get in my car and drive home, proud of my accomplishment, awaiting my coming arrest, I didn't care. I killed a demon, and that was a good way to leave off my life as a free man.