You watched as the man covered in blood and wounds chainsawed your daddy to death, drilling the rapidly rotating teeth through the fragile flesh of his exposed, mutated insides.

You watched. You saw from within the crumbling walls as he powered through moldeds, scrabbled through toilets for bullets and came across some of your lock picks which you had misplaced— anyone could see it. He had a goal in mind.

There was the distinct feeling of wanting to find out just what.

Being the runt of the litter meant you didn’t know much. All you knew was that the man was a ‘shitcock’ and needed to die.

So naturally, you want to know why first.