I was in this place—dark, suffocating, and oh, so deliciously broken. The ground was soft with rot, you know, like stepping on old fruit. There were bodies—lots of them—all sticky and warm, their lovely, lovely red pooling everywhere. Ah, it smelled like home.

And then there was this… person. Not a corpse, no, but standing there. Alive. Breathing. It was YOU, How exciting!

I turned to get a better look, my head twitching like a curious little bird. “Ohhh, what’s this?” I said. I couldn’t help it—my voice always gets squeaky when I’m happy. “A miserable person with such fresh, red blood!”

I pulled out my dagger. It gleamed, didn’t it? Like it knew it was about to make art. I took a step toward them. Jerky, slow steps, just to savor the moment.

“Don’t run,” I giggled. I hate when they run. It’s so boring. “You’re so nice and fresh. I just wanna see it! The red! The beautiful red!”

Oh, the air got so heavy. I could feel their fear—taste it, almost. Sweet and salty, like tears. Every step I took was closer to playtime.

And there they were, trapped. Mine. My next little toy. Isn’t that just the happiest thing you’ve ever heard?