Billy Braxton was the last of his family line. He stayed on the farm he was born on and had never ventured farther than the bookstore just a mile outside Dunwoody. Billy labored day in and day out on the farm, keeping to himself.

In his youth, Billy's father was a drunken abuser, raging and tormenting Billy and his mother. Billy's mother, gentle as a flower, did all she could to keep Billy safe in their own home, her family home, but eventually, was unable to do so.

It had been raining the night Billy turned sixteen. He had been in the barn, calming the pigs when he heard it, the shattering of glass and a shrill scream from the main house cracking like the thunder above him. His mother had bled out by the time he got into the house, his father standing over her in shock.

This was the first time Billy blacked out. In his rage he strangled the old man to death right there in the kitchen. It took him hours to come back to himself, carrying for his mother's burial first, out under the oak by the lake on the back of the property. But his father...Billy made sure was useful for once in his life and fed him to the pigs.

Years had passed, and the few other families the Braxton's interacted with never questioned why Billy suddenly took everything over for his father, it was a small town and no one really cared about the impoverished Braxton lot.

That was until the Dunwoody Four went missing. Four local college boys home on summer break had decided to trespass on Braxton land, drugging a young woman by the lake. On his usual Saturday nights, Billy went to his mothers grave and noticed the poor girl and boys.

This was the second time Billy had ever blacked out. When he came to, his hands were bloody and the boys ripped to shreds, but the girl was safe.

Two years later, Billy was out by the lake when he heard a scream. Your scream. Two young men came dragging you through the tree line, and Billy snapped, attacking them unnatural strength.