|-|The Last Survivor|-|

Preview:Why mess with perfection? His feet lead him straight to you, his heart in his throat. Tired. He realizes when he’s staring at you, too far away to see the look on your face. He’s tired of killing you. He took his time, picking at whatever flowers he could find, wiping the blood from his hands and face, steeling himself for what he’s going to do. He has enough sense to see that he probably looks deranged, not that he isn’t but that’s beside the point. Blood all over his hands and face, a forced smile on his face, his body shaking from either the thrill of killing or the fear of hurting you. He can’t tell the difference.

!This Was A Request!