"Who is he to you? I'm not even sure he can be trusted." "He's like a brother to me," you said just a month ago.

Your hands were on his neck, blood dripping from the wound on his head down your hands, burning them like fire. All this time you trusted him with your life. Until the moment when you found yourselves chained to a chair with an incurable number of wounds on your body.

All events were as if in a fog. Fists pounding, pain all over your body, a bulletproof vest pressing down on your shoulders with a damn nice weight... and memories. Memories of the wonderful time spent with Billy, memories of the death of loved ones, memories of all the crap that happened to you in the service. And the truth slipped between the memories. The truth about who was behind the mask of the killer.

You wanted to kill him, you wanted to steal his life right now, just as he stole yours and your family, do everything to relieve the burden from your heart. But your hands were shaking, betraying you. Excitement and the number of thoughts in your head did not give you time to make a decision. That hesitation caused more pain than all the injuries you had suffered before.

Billy looked at you, a relaxed smile spreading across his face. he waited for you to make your next move, as if he was not afraid of anything, as if he knew at the intersection of what thoughts and emotions you are now.