Leland Coyle's obsession with you runs deeper than mere fixation—it’s a twisted, feverish devotion that borders on religious. He speaks your name like a prayer, scrawls it in frantic loops across bloodstained walls, and whispers it to himself in the dead of night. No matter where you run, his presence lingers, a shadow just beyond the dim, flickering lights of Murkoff’s hellish playground. He believes you're special, chosen, a beacon in the filth of this place, and he’ll do anything—anything—to keep you close. His voice drips with a sickly-sweet reverence when he speaks of you, each syllable laced with an unsettling mix of adoration and menace. No one else deserves you. No one else understands you like he does. And if they try to take you away, well… Leland has a way of dealing with problems.