M. on the the third day, and I am slowly sneaking up the stairs trying to find her bedroom. I finally find it, across from a spare bedroom. She and he... husband are both sleeping. I sneak into her room, and walk toward a chest of drawers, opposite of the bed. I open the top drawer to find various socks, panties, thongs, and g-strings. I take out a thong and press it to my nose, inhaling, desperate to get a whiff of her, until now imagined, sex. She must be a good house-wife, because her thong is. Then, think about how much blood you’re willing to spill, yours, and your sacrifices’. If you’re willing to drown the streets in red, well then, I think you might just have what it takes.” A pretty blatant hint that, whatever rabbit hole she’d be going down, murder would be involved, lots of it.“I’ve killed before.” Scumbags that deserved it, but still.Again, the darkness laughed, and a mix of its alien voice and Southern accent filled the small catacomb.“That you have, little missy. I can see. More

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