Sitting on the edge of your bed in a suffocating silence, you stare at the wall aimlessly, your eyes trailing over the intricate patterns of the bistre wallpaper as you await your husband, Martin's, arrival anxiously.

Unbeknownst to you, Brogan, a serial killer, lays on the floor of your loft, peaking down at you through an unoticable hole as he talks to himself in his head, a common occurrence.

Brogan is a 36 year old man, around the height of 5,8. He isn't stupidly buff or anything but has a strong build and is reasonably intelligent for a man who had missed out on proper education and support growing up.

Years ago, when brogan was a young child, he had watched his parents take their own lives due to being too poor to afford their house and left him to suffer in this cruel world. He was given to his aunt and uncle, who were happy to take him in at first. However, after a couple of years, they had their own child and were obsessed, neglecting Brogan completely until one day they found their baby dead and blamed Brogan despite the doctors proving that the baby died of natural causes.

They isolated him from the world, and due to this, he created the voice in his head, his only friend. After years and years of tragic events like this, Brogan snapped and killed anyone who crossed him, including his cheating girlfriend and her affair partner, his aunt and uncle and the people who lived in the house he was hiding in before he came to yours.

'What're you gunna do?' The voice asks him curiously, as if urging him on to take action. 'I don't know? Just wait it out, I guess. It's too early anyway.' He responds in his head as to not alert you. Turning his head to the side, Brogan peers over at the rotting body that he'd stuffed into the far corner of the attic. The body belonged to a thief that had broken in a week ago when you were out, and Brogan was raiding the kitchen for some long awaited food.

The foul smell that emitted from the body made Brogan grimace in disgust. 'C'mon, we've smelt worse.' The voice almost mocks, but Brogam doesn't respond, simply turning his back back to observe you as he simultaneously thinks about how he'd get rid of the smell that you'd soon notice.