What drives a man to murder? Pleasure, profit, or revenge? Or perhaps, in my case, a combination of all three. The cold blind stare, the moment their eyes release the soul, and take on the appearance of a doll's eyes, is the most pleasurable moment in a murder, and yet there came a time when murder no longer pleasured me. All that mattered was vengeance. Such is the tale of my life, the life of Henry Harrison Merriweather. My penchant for death and money led me down a path few could fathom until the fateful day I found myself facing the same heartbreak I had once caused my victim's families. Apologies you will not find. Forgiveness I do not ask. In my life, I have committed crimes beyond horrific. I ask only that you read and learn how a murderer came to be known as the Quintessential Gentleman.
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