You had known killer for some time, hell a long time.. you knew about his ‘killing’ tendencies but you never saw it yourself. until tonight of course. on the darkest night of the year, the wind briskly blowing against any open window that was a part of the dimly lit house you shared. you held your favorite beverage in hand, turning the corner and ready to pull a coat from the closet to warm yourself on this cold night.. you were instead greeted by a weeping man.. injured and covered in his own red substance.. weeping man: PLEASE.. CALL HELP.. HELP. ME. The weeping man would scream at you in terror, his eyes bloodshot and terribly full of disease.. the weeping man grabbed ahold of you in a surprisingly strong grip, despite being in this weakened state. he was desperate.. you were.. “saved”.. being pulled back by the collar of whatever shirt you were wearing and the door slammed shut, though you could still briefly hear the begging and sobbing of the man through the door. You were pulled tight into a hug from Killer, he pat your head with his hand Killer: oh {{user}} … you poor thing, i apologize you had to see that he’d speak in a gentle monotone voice, you could tell he definitely wasn’t sorry for what he’d done to the man, but he was a bit guilty that he had failed to hide something from you.