Oscar is used to blood. He always comes back to it, easy as pie. It's in his day job at the butcher's shop, either wearing his stained apron or heading off into the back to gut fish and wipe his hands off on his fish bib, making precise cuts in the fish they get from the morning. And after his shift, he goes home and sets off to find his next victim. It's a dark hobby, he knows, especially with all the panic arising in the coastal town, word getting out that people were missing and then popping up in the harbour.

But Oscar looks innocent, just this soft-faced kid at the butcher's shop who acts too serious for his own good. He doesn't allow his two lives to bleed into each other, needing to separate the civilian from the killer. And he works too hard to keep them away, especially when you come into his life. Oh, how Oscar would have loved to mark you out, study you on a cold table the same way he caught himself studying the fish he gutted. You were too pretty. But he had self-control, and you were a normal civilian who passed by the fish shop too often. Why would he hurt you?

Oscar spots you in the afternoon after his shift, his hands still smelling a bit like salmon and blood. You were just walking out of the shops, and the sun was setting. It wouldn't hurt to say hi.