Inspired By A Prompt

From the Writers Write Facebook page, I saw a writing prompt that I decided to try.  It fits in rather well with Hitchhiker, though it may not necessarily be in the finished book.
Which means you guys got one of my Special Edition Super Deluxe VIP peeks.  Feel special.

 
Guess what antagonist I chose?  Richard!!!!

Here it goes.

"Adrian didn't want to leave me behind."
Richard's eyes flew open.  He grunted and shook his head, trying to clear Cameron's words from his dreams, but they haunted him like a phantom.  In fact, they hadn't left him all day, since the moment Cameron spoke them.  "Why?" he muttered.  Never in all his wicked life had he been affected by his victims.  Life had always been so easy to terminate, the human body so frail and easy to break.  He'd been sure he had managed to bury his conscience, which had only ever hindered him from his work, under a crust of insensitivity and coldness.  What was this feeling?  Where did these second thoughts come from?  Why was he having doubts?
By now he had roused himself too much to go back to sleep.  He sat up and swung his long legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his face with his hands.  In the darkness, he could see the scene from earlier that day playing out.  Cameron was sitting in a chair, surrounded by armed guards.  Richard himself was standing in front of him, taunting him, but Cameron merely folded his arms and looked straight ahead.  Lucy walked into the room.  At this, Richard frowned in disgust.  He hated Lucy, that conceited, foolish, ignorant, conniving little spy...she abraded him to no end.
Suddenly very irritated, he got up and, leaning on the basin in the corner of his bedroom, he splashed cool water on his face.  Tomorrow would be an eventful day; he couldn't afford to develop a conscience.  Looking into the mirror, he barely discerned his face in the blackness, with his sharp forehead and a nose that Lucy found it pleasing to sock from time to time.  Richard gripped the edge of the sink in frustration.  He felt trapped between traitorous thoughts and his violent lifestyle that was strangely showing itself in a new light.  
Suddenly he grinned.  At least now there was someone sitting in a cell on whom, tomorrow, he would vent his anger.
Or will I?
The words stole into his mind like a poison.  Unable to shake the feeling of guilt, he struck the mirror repeatedly with his fist until it cracked, then shattered, leaving his knuckles bloody and torn.  He paid no attention, panting and staring at the monster in the jagged shards of glass as he realized the question was not "would he do that" but "could he."
Could he do that to Cameron?  Could he continue to be a monster?

As always, I appreciate, love, and encourage feedback!  Please no one cry like I almost did while writing this...sorry this post was late and, as always, sorry for the briefness!
-Ashley