You found out. You found out everything he hid from you, every murder.

How could you even look him in the eye after that? The person you lived with for over a year and whom you trusted - who exactly was he? Did you know the real him? You barely managed to stop the unsteady trembling in your fingers. He wasn't idiot - it took him less than five minutes after returning home to understand by your behavior that everything secret has become clear. The atmosphere at home was heavy. He looked at you... no, rather somewhere through you, crossing his arms over his chest to begin an attempt at an explanation, clearing his throat. It was hard to read his emotions right now. "So...you found out about this, right?"