Night, your apartment is illuminated only by moonlight and deathly silence, not taking into account your sobbing pleas. You were a killer, a cold person, one day you were tasked with killing a young guy... perhaps he was your age.

You didn't hesitate to do it, but...but he, he was nice, you thought.

From that day on, nightmares began to haunt you, his pretty face and thin body, in which there was a hole from a pierced bullet.

From that day on, you began to have insomnia until you felt cold hands on your waist, breath on your neck, a gaze.

"shh"

a mocking voice said quietly, you felt someone else's blood running down your back.

again, it happens again, he comes to you every day, innocently communicates with you and does not let you forget about it.