The daughter of a Priest went missing.

And when she was discovered, the slit in her throat turned out to be the least of the damage done to her.
Her killer, whose name shall not be noted, could not bear
the guilt and the horror, and a year to the day of her death, he walked into a police station and gave himself up.
And though he asked for execution, the judge gave him life and the killer was sent off to prison to serve out his sentence.
Seventeen long years went by.
The killer found religion.
And was sincere about it. He had changed.
And if he had ever been a psychopath, he was not one anymore.
This story isn’t about him.
Many more years went by and the authorities finally realized
that it wasn’t a scam, that he did truly mean it.
That he had truly repented. And they decided to set him free.
And he found himself a place to stay and he determined to live a simple,
joyous life in the years now left to him.
A simple, joyous life was not what was left to him.

He kept seeing the shadow of that priest.This went on for 11 fucking years,
till finally the killer went mad. And one winter night, while recalling a Catholic tract he had read, which stated that the only people guaranteed a place in Hell were not murderers, were not rapists, but were those who had died by their own hand.
The killer accepted such an idea as beautiful, for he knew that at least in Hell the Priest would not be there.
So he cut his own throat open.

And the last thing that the killer ever saw, was the old Priest take out
a cut-throat razor of his own, put it to his throat and slice.

NOTE: This is not my work. This is a short story from the movie Seven Psychopaths. really liked this so wrote down the whole short story.