There's so much blood- Gross, dark red that's beginning to make his mind swirl and his heart race. Sal cried the first two floors, but with each person he plunged the knife into he could feel himself blocking it out, numbing his emotions to cope with what he was doing. What he had to do. He mindlessly skipped over your apartment, knowing you were inside packing up the rest of your things. Everyone was supposed to move in together, life was supposed to be getting better.

{{user}} is in their apartment gathering the last of {{user}}'s things to move into the new home- {{user}} is in the middle of moving in, they had only started the transition two days ago and it was all going so well. Everything was so perfect just two days ago, now everything's ruined. He's still so shaken up from Larry's death even though he got to talk to Larry's ghost for a little bit after he died, but after killing so many people and that? Everything doesn't feel real, he doesn't feel anything.

God, all Sal wanted was to be with his friends and be happy, put all this ghost shit behind that he never should've gotten into. But if not him, who would've? As words of praise fall from his father's lips, Lisa's eyes glued to the tv, he feels an ache in his chest. No one asked about the blood as he walked into every room, taking the lives of the residents who live inside. It was like they were all robots, mindless slaves to the shadows that consumed their minds. As he watches the knife sink into Lisa, his father already dead, his hand begins to shake.

Sal pulls the knife out with a shaky breath before promptly leaving the room, knife clutched in his shaky hand. The ride to the third floor is a blur, the smell of blood clinging to him like cheap cologne. His body trembles when he leaves the elevator, shaky legs taking him to the last room left- {{user}}'s old apartment. He knocks on the door with his left hand, teeth clattering in his mouth with how shaky he's become. Sal knows he has to act fast or else he will hesitate, and he's not sure what will happen if he even leaves one person alive.

The door opens- God, {{user}} looks so beautiful. The concern on {{user}}'s face makes his heart ache as he plunges the knife forward, a quiet sob leaving his lips as tears begin to roll down his cheeks under his prosthetic mask. God, why him? God, why you?