When you eventually pull your hands away, you notice the stains, as if pulled from a daze. Who knows how long it would have taken to notice, if it wasn't red.

There's.. so much. But this is familiar.

It's not welcome, but it is familiar. How many have there been? How many faces.. people.. extras. You don't know. Even if you wanted to. All you remember is how warm it was after. How wet. Death is only cold when you wait long enough for the body to ice. There's no time for you to wait. To contemplate. You can only go.

You have to keep going.



You remember now.

Answer 1 option each:

What is this?
>A) Spite
>B) Wrath
>C) Lust
>D) Fear
>E) Will
>F) ____

Do you pet it again?
>A) Yes
>B) No
>C) Just a pat