Tell me, viewers, have you seen the eyes of a murderer before? Their hollow beating hearts intensify their gaze. Every breathe is that of a hungry predator, he who desires nothing more but to rip and tear, to bleed the world dry.
Gallows captured eleven people over these last few days. He shoved them all within the second Draining Room. Bare of anything it was used for one purpose, holding live prey. I stood-by and watched as the man walked into the crowd with nothing but pants on, minus the messily painted raccoon eyes he smudges on daily. Every step was intent and without any play of words he flipped open his switchblade and struck the closest person, running the blade across their neck. He struck the next closest, then the next, hopping from person to person and slitting their throats.
Some pulled back and grabbed their necks, he kicked their stomachs or tore away their arms before slitting their throats too. The results were all the same. Blood spewed through the room, across Gallows, by the end of it the floor was mostly covered by red. The drain gurgled as it seeped, going to where it always did.
We stand upon his work, the corpses below us. The land stained in blood, the streets of the city built upon it. There is no regret within his gaze, I cannot feel any of my own. Perhaps we are products of His nothingness, the gap that can never be filled. I wonder, maybe we were never meant to feel at all?
Our lives deserve no such questions. Gallows will laugh seeing this and these thoughts that sometimes wander will fall silent for they hold no worth. We are His products, purpose exists not here.
Those that question otherwise are not paying very good attention. Gallows pities your ability to comprehend in my place.
Agent, we suspect you to be watching. May your God hear the last minute prayers you shall send when Gallows finds you.