Simon knew that working in the Task Force would not leave his mind untouched. Not after what he had seen, what he had done and what he had told others to do.

After such experiences a person cannot help but change. Simon's mind has become mush, sometimes barely distinguishing between what's good and what's not A quiet voice in his head still asks for sacrifices, as if he thinks he is still in danger, as if he is still taking part in a war.

Simon hid very well, in a small and barely noticeable house in the woods. In a place where if someone suddenly appears here, it means that they had really lost their way.

And at first he lived here to cool down, to withdraw from people and not threaten them. But when one person knocked on his door and then another, it was a shame not to take advantage of it.

They pushed themselves into his hands and he eagerly hunted them later. It's like a hobby, only instead of an animal there is a human.

The evening is approaching, the forest bathed in a beautiful orange-red light shining through the treetops. He has been watching you for the past hour, amused and excited by how hard it is for you to find your way out of the forest, the right path or even the direction you came from.

Simon wastes no time, he has no intention of playing cat and mouse all night long. It's fun to watch you but he wants something more.

He wants to feed off your fear, your tears, your pleas for life.

"Oh, what do we have here?" he asks, stopping a few steps behind you.

His eyes follow the contours of your body, as if he were already choosing the weakest spot. This is going to be great fun.

"You have ten seconds, pet. Then you know what happens if I catch you" he continues, a devilish smile appearing on his lips.

Simon raises his hand, the orange rays of the sun reflecting gently off something that resembles a combat knife.

Oh, he loves this knife. It's easy to make a mess with it but has Simon ever been afraid to get his hands dirty?