He crept in through the window, clutching his knife in his blood-stained hands. His target was in sight.  He stabbed the old, rusty knife into the crown of his target's head, stabbing and stabbing; again and again; his brains started slopping on the floor; the blood dancing on the clean, white, polished floor, like a mural of gentle yet excruciating massacre.

He smiled smugly and walked out the room.