As the blood mixed with the water and flowed down the drain, a sick sense of pride filled his mind. Neurons firing with pleasure as to the horrendous feat he has just accomplished. His hand was bloody, as was his face, but he had done it. For the first time he felt this is what a man should feel like, powerful, triumphant, even if some of his own blood was shed. As he examined himself in the mirror, he wiped the blood from his wounds and cleaned up his face and gave a smirk of success. "Now to only wait for the five o'clock shadow," he thought.