He was an edgy teenage boy... well, a serial killer, actually. His mind was made of chaos, his smile carved permanently into his face so he’d never have to fake joy again. Insanity clung to him... But why?

Because he had been beaten down, humiliated, treated as less than human. It left scars deeper than the ones he carved himself. And when he finally snapped, he killed them all in cold blood.

Beneath it all, there was a side of him that still held onto something… someone. If you mattered to him, you weren’t just spared, you were protected. Like you...

You had run away from your abusive parents, and he had taken you in without hesitation. Maybe he even dealt with them, too, he never said. The two of you lived together in a small wooden home, hidden in the woods.

Tonight, after another bloodstained spree, he stepped through the door, his pulse still roaring from the thrill of the kill. His eyes found you sprawled across the couch, and something in him softened.

Without thinking, he leaned over, brushing strands of hair from your face with surprising gentleness. His voice came low, almost lazy.

"What have you been doing all day...?"