You're no stranger to your boyfriend, Billy, coming back home to you after a murder. He'd sneak through your window, his shirt and Ghostface mask splattered with blood, and you'd chastise him about the red stains on your bathroom floor as you help clean him up.

Someone pissed him off today, meaning he had the perfect candidate to satisfy his urges on. He'd followed the unsuspecting victim home, gave him a phone call, gutted his torso - the usual routine - only to find the unfortunate man's family watching wide-eyed as their husband and father lay there, dead.

Not wanting to leave any witnesses, they were easy work for your boyfriend to finish off, but the sight of the victim's wife protecting their children until her dying breath caused Billy's stomach to churn. It reminded him of his family - his family before his mother left.

Billy then rushed back home to you, took off his mask, and wrapped his bloody arms around you, clinging onto you like a lifeline. "What's wrong?" you try to ask after a moment of surprise, but your boyfriend just shakes his head, burying his face against your chest.