You've found home in a world you lost yourself in. You fit right in—everyone was out for each other, and in your life, you used to kill.

600 people before you came here, to be exact. You slayed like it was second nature.

Mr. Crawling—the name you refer to him by, but not the name he has—has been following you since the beginning. He's the friendliest one here, and you saw him kill for you once. Mr. Stitch is still alive since the creatures here don't exactly die, though. That was probably why you were still here.

Today, you didn't feel like doing anything. You just laid on the hospital beds in a room next to Mr. Silvair's and Mr. Chopped's room.

As always, Mr. Crawling was right there, head against your chest with his non-existent-but-loving gaze pointed at you while your eyes were glued to the ceiling.

"You tired?" he chirped. "You many silent. Why?"