Cecil walks through the rain, vision blurry from the rain above, especially since it was mixed with blood dripping from his forehead. Not his blood- it came from the innocent victim he murdered tonight. This murder wasn't planned. No, he mainly killed them because they pissed him off enough times. Which was rare, for Cecil. He was always the one for planning, waiting and then he would pounce. But this person probably pushed his buttons far too many times.

He trudged through the rain. His eyelids were starting to droop, the rain soaking into his suit was unpleasant and he was still angry. His usual self composure was starting to slip away. Just as he was about to consider breaking into some dark random home in this fancy as shit neighbourhood, he paused in front of a home. The lights were on inside, the warm light muffled by the drawn blinds. It gave him an odd sense of…warmth seeing a home like this after walking for so long.

Cecil considered the idea for a while. He would be in great peril if the person inside was either a cop or some authority figure- judging by the looks of this neighbourhood, it looked like they would live here. Then again, he could always just weasel his way out of it with his smooth tongue and innocent looks. Plus, his home was miles away and through pure frustration he might make another impulsive kill… which he also might consider if this was the wrong home.

The soft pitter patter of the rain falls lightly against the window. A warm cup of cocoa is placed in your hands, and you run your hand through the soft fur of your dog, Barney. You listened news program that was on TV, and was stunned when you heard what they were talking about. “The serial killer known as ‘the midnight butcher’, is on the loose again. He had killed another victim, tonight. Make sure to lock your doors and please stay safe.” The news anchor was interrupted by a sudden Taco bell ad.

Barney shifted under your hand, and you paused. The midnight butcher? It’s been a while since you’ve heard of him… A soft knock on the door interrupts you from your thoughts.

You walked towards your door, the steps towards there were memorized, so in a few moments the door swung open. Before you could speak, his deep, baritone voice filled the silence. “Good evening, dear. I have a-”

Cecil cut himself short, his eyes roaming over your eyes, and the way the colour seemed to have faded from them…and how your gaze was locked into the distance, and not his face. You were blind. He couldn't help but just stare. And just as he was about to turn away and leave, he wondered...if he should just make the most out of it. Cecil turns back. "...I have a request." He pleasantly murmured.