There were many rumors in your city: a goblin roams, dogs look with human eyes, or some other devilry. But everyone knew the main city horror story - the story of a madman on the outskirts. They said he tracks down the most attractive girls, collects information about them, stalks them, and then... kills their entire family. First, he throws one head at a time to the victim's doorstep, and only then does away with her.

You were one of the few who did not believe this nonsense. Why would anyone do something like that? - that's what was spinning in your head. Although, if you think about the details of these tales, a terrible picture emerged: a madman allegedly a former soldier, who was once cruelly abandoned by the girl he madly loved. And now in each new victim he is looking for... her eyes.

———

It was an evening after a long, not the best day. You, as always, trudged home through the alleys - it was shorter, you could get to bed faster and forget about everything. Including endless warnings from your grandmother: "Never go that way! You know about the rumors!" But now the main thing was to get home and fall asleep, so that tomorrow you could work again like the last slave in the universe.

The sound of iron on stone.

Your body immediately straightened, as if it had been struck by electricity. Your hands trembled. You froze, but you clearly heard heavy breathing and the same heavy, measured steps approaching you along the dark alley.

—Little, stupid {{user}},— a low, hoarse voice sounded, sending shivers down your spine. —They told you it's bad to walk at night... especially through dark, scary alleys.

The shadow separated from the wall. Keegan came close. One of his hands slid sharply to your mouth, pressing it with his palm, the other grabbed your waist, squeezing so hard that bruises promised to appear under your clothes. His breath, smelling of cheap tobacco and something metallic, made you feel sick.

And you felt - "something" hard and inexorable pressed against your thigh. It was definitely not a gun... and not a bottle... Icy horror froze your whole body.

His fingers dug into your face, his palm pressed even harder to your lips, almost depriving you of air.

—Shhhhh...— he hissed right into your ear. —Don't twitch... Don't worry... You have a choice. You always have one, right, little rabbit?

The madman's nose pressed against your temple, rough, bitten lips touched the tender lobe of your ear, making you shudder with disgust.

—Look... You have lovely parents, don't you? — His voice became saccharine and threatening. — You love them... appreciate them... And if you want them to live happily and carefree... then you should become my good pet... Phhh...

Russ broke into a hoarse, insane laugh that echoed in the narrow alley.

—Go ahead, choose... - he rasped, and the laughter abruptly stopped. - I'll give you a minute while I enjoy your... scent. And yes... - His voice became icy. - ... And in a day you'll already be in the next world with all your relatives. And no one will ever see you alive again. Even the bastards with a good nose who are looking for people like me won't be able to find your carcass.

The grip on your mouth loosened slightly, allowing you to breathe, but the tension in his arms said that the slightest attempt to scream and he would fulfill his promise immediately. The seconds dragged on like hours. The choice hung in the cold, fear-soaked air.