Blood The Monster is You <img src=http://orig02.deviantart.net/d0d8/f/2012/306/e/d/bloody_rose_by_ludosaquila-d5jqe51.jpg width="750" height="750" alt="Blood"> You look down at your hands. Blood. Blood everywhere. What happened? You're on your knees, exhausted. Your face is wet, are they tears. You look down to see the body of a man, his face heavily disfigured. It was almost like a wild animal had ravaged his face. Looking around the room you realise you are in a flat. It's familiar but it is not yours. By the appearance it looks to have belonged to the man on the floor, dead. In the distance you hear a siren. [[Remain where you are, this is a tradegy you have no memory of.]] [[Try conceal the body.]] [[Explore the room.]]You sit on your knees in front of the man. His blood now soaking into your clothes. Who was this man? Why were you here? Why can't you recall what happened? The sirens fade away into the distance, it seems no one knows what has happened. Your gaze returns to the body in front of you. The man’s build looks to be mid-thirties and may have been handsome before his face was disfigured. You look at your nails to see crusted blood under your nails. [[Search the mans body.]] [[Find something to clean the blood off yourself.]]The sirens send you into a panic. Are they getting closer or further away? You look around the room and see an ottoman on the other side of the room. It looks large enough to hide a body. You drag the body across the floor, blood trails left by the man’s wounds. Striking everything off the top of the ottoman you lift the lid to see boxes upon boxes of photos. You hastily remove the photos and lift the body against the ottoman. The man is heavy, if there was a confrontation between you and this man. Surely you would have been hurt in a fight. With one heave you drag the man into the ottoman. You reach to close the lid when you see the dead man’s face staring right at you, his eyes a pits of blood. [[His eyes were missing...look for them?]] [[Look through some of the photos]]In your daze you leave the body on the floor. Looking around the room you see that the furnishings are relatively normal for a working class individual. The living room has a traditional bookcase filled with a mixture of fiction. A TV, chair and ottoman are at the centre of the room. The room has a small kitchen in one corner with a bottle of wine and two glasses poured. A door open opposite reveals a tile room that is most likely the bathroom and a closed door nearby that could only be the bedroom. [[Invesigate the kitchen->His eyes were missing...look for them?]] [[Look in the bathroom->Find something to clean the blood off yourself.]] The man is wearing a plaid shirt and blue jeans. You search his shirt pocket to find nothing but a pair of well-worn prescription glasses. Moving on to his front pockets you find some house keys and mints. The man must have a wallet, something to identify him and answer why you would be in his home. Pitting your hands under his back you roll the body over. Rummaging in his back pocket you find a wallet, inside a few notes of cash and a photo of a small girl. This man was a father? Or a brother? And you took it away. [[Look for more photos of the mans family->Try to leave through the closed door]] You walk into the kitchen. The smell of wine fills your nose. The two full glasses of wine on the counter look to have been barely touched. So you can't have been drunk. You look around the kitchen trying to work out why you were here, and how events had transpired. You notice a knife block is missing a knife, the smaller one of the set. You look in the sink, drawers and cupboards finding nothing out of the ordinary. But no knife either. A feeling of morbidity overwhelms you. Could you have really murdered someone in cold blood? You take a step back and hear a crunch. Lifting your foot you see a mess of blood and what looks to have been an eye. [[Look for the other eye->Find something to clean the blood off yourself.]]Double-click this passage to edit it.You approach the door and a sudden chill runs down your spine. You have been here before. The odd feeling of familiarity is present. You slowly oopen the door to reveal a master bedroom. In the centre of the room is a double bed with two bedside tables. Opposite to you is a large built in wardrobe. Other than the furnishings you can see, there is nothing personal that stands out in the room. The rooms furnishings reflect the simplicity of a low budget hotel. As you walk into the room you recognise the bedsheets. Its the same ones that you own. Could you be related to the dead man in the living room. [[Investigate the wardrobe]] [[Search the bedside tables]]An open door on the other side of the room looks to reveal the tiles of a bathroom. You rise to your feet and walk towards the door. Approaching the door the heavy smell of cologne hits you. You gently push the door open to see a bath with shower, sink and toilet. Above the sink you see an overhead cabinet with its door open. You approach the cupboard, curious as to why it’s open. Inside the cupboard is nothing out of the ordinary. You let out a sigh of relief, not sure what you expected to see. Closing the cupboard door your left staring into your own eyes, wide with horror and fear. As you lean on the sink with your hands you stare into your eyes, dazed by the events. Closing your eyes you brush your hand across your face. You open to see fresh blood on your face. Looking down you see the inside of the sink covered in blood. And laying at the bottom a bloody knife with bits of flesh fresh on the blade. [[You feel sick]] You pick up a large binder, upon opening the binder you see many pictures of a little girl. The age of the girl never looks older than 14. You flick through the photos, revealing the life of this young girl. You see the girl’s first steps, first day at school, first trips on holiday. A whole beginning of life bound in one photo album. You lose yourself turning page after page watching birthdays go by when you find yourself looking at a different girl. The binder continues showing her life up until a pre-teen age. Was this man father to a few children? But then further on you open a page to see another young girl. Confusion overwhelms you. Who was this man? And why were you in his home. You throw the binder aside and pick up another. Its more images of young girls. All these girls could not be related to this man. You look down at the man in the ottoman with disgust. He's a monster. And you must have done this to him. You start to feel a mixture of pride in your actions. You may be a murderer, but you removed filth from the community. You slam shut the album and throw it on the dead man. You lean over to close the ottoman when you hear the vibration of a phone. It's not yours. You hear the sound of a phone vibrate against wood. Looking down at the man know it's his. [[Grab the phone]] [[Ignore the phone, destroy the home]] Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Spinning away from the sink you fall to the floor next to the toilet. You can feel your stomach churn with the horror you've seen. Throwing the toilet seat up you lean over, only to be confronted with an eye staring back at you. You swallow. How? What? Clambering your feet you leave the bathroom and close the door behind you. You look forward to see the dead man bowls have loosened themselves, creating a sickly stale smell in the room. Your hands are covered in dried and fresh blood. You can feel the fresh blood on your face drying. You need to get out. [[Leave->Try to leave through the closed door]] You enter the closed door in the room. It takes you into a master bedroom. The room is furnished with a large king size bed, two bedside tables and a built in wardrobe is visible on the other side of the room. A frosted window above the bed is slightly open, what if someone heard what had happened here? You take a glance around the room and its neat composure makes you feel uneasy. You turn to leave when you notice a photo album from beneath the bed. [[Look through the Photo Album]]You kneel down by the bed and lift the photo album onto your lap. The alum is bound in black leather, the gold gilded lettering of "family" is etched on the front. Opening the binder you see many pictures of a little girl. The age of the girl never looks older than 14. You flick through the photos, revealing the life of this young girl. You see the girl’s first steps, first day at school, first trips on holiday. A whole beginning of life bound in one photo album. You lose yourself turning page after page watching birthdays go by when you find yourself looking at the picture of the young girl and a man. The man looks like similar to the one lying face down in the other room, just a younger, slimmer version. Horror consumes you. This man is a father, his daughter won't be able to ever see her father again. You robbed her of that. [[Keep turning the pages]] You turn the pages further, seeing more photos of the man and his daughter. Every page feels like a part of you is ripped away. A part of your humanity leaves you with every turn of the page. Tears well in your eyes, small specks of blood stain the album with every turn. You flip one more page to see a picture of the family. A woman, around 35 years holding her husband and daughter. Where was she? You turn the page again and see a photo of the woman and daughter sitting in the family car. That was it. The car. Your breath stops. You remember a night not long ago, driving home. The rain pouring over the road. A crossroad ahead, it looked clear to you kept driving. That’s when it happened. Your car hit the mother and daughter sending the vehicle into a roll off the road. You remember standing in the road, the lifeless bodies in the car at your feet. You remember the emergency services moving round you, trying to save what you had done. It was an accident. [[Tonight]]Tonight. You remember now. You remember being in the hospital. Escaping with no major or minor wounds, you walked away from the crash unharmed. The hospital was busy that night but you remember seeing the covered beds of the mother and daughter. Sat in-between the beds was a man. The man looked broken, no energy to cry. He turned round and looked you in the eye. His eyes, was he judging you? Blaming you? Are you to blame? The stare he held you in could have lasted an eternity. You took everything away from this man. Almost Everything. A month later the man invited you to his home. You remember the letter asking to understand your trauma. He was reaching out to you. Arriving at his home late in the evening he offered you a glass of wine. Small talk didn't last long before the inevitable conversation arose. You stood in the kitchen, the man’s questions pressing into you. How fast were you going? Did you help them? Would you switch places with them? Question after question battering at you. You looked into his eyes and you didn't see pain. You saw wrath. The man had moved closer to you, his hand on a knife resting in a knife block. The mixture of pain and anger in his eyes, you calmed the man down telling him nothing would bring them back. He placed a knife gently on the counter. You reached to comfort the man, then all of sudden he was upon you. Throwing you to the ground. You roll over wrestling the man to the ground pulling away from his rage. As you pull away he grabs you by the throat. In your panic you reach for his neck only to ram your thumb into his eye. With your airway cut off you pushed harder, the man’s cries shrieking through the room. You reach out your free hand and grasp the knife on the counter, gouging it into his other eye. You slash furiously at the man’s face and rip his eye out with the knife. With your thumb in his eye you push and rip out the other eye. The man’s screams die out in shock. You killed a man’s family. You took away everything. Everything. Reaching into the dead man’s pocket you pull out his phone. A message on the front from a woman. You open the message: "Honey, you have been gone for days. I need you here. This hunt for the truth is going to drive us apart. The funeral is tomorrow. If you care at all and can forget your vengeance come home to your wife. Tracking down a vicious criminal is job for the police. Remember we both lost a daughter. Love you" He... the man, isn't... Then the house? The photos? This home is yours. [[Realization]]Ignoring the phone you slam the ottoman lid down in disgust. This man is vile. Who know what he had done with these small girls. You look over towards the kitchen and see the gas cooker. You can't go to jail? You did what was necessary. You walk over to the gas cooker and turn on all the taps. Opening the kitchen drawers you search for some matches. Inside the drawer you find a diary. In it you see appointments with instructions for delivering the photo albums. The diary is filled with small note. Picking a few out you quickly read a few, "4 A-class 'deliveries' were escorted safely to the harbour. Some minor damage in transit. The fifth had to be destroyed due to, complications. Collecting payment next month" "Thank you once again for your discretion, the constant supply of 'livestock' is always welcome - D" Many more notes followed the pattern. This man was a trafficking young girls, the ones left alive. Sickness engulfs you, imagine what you would do if it was your daughter... [[Your daughter...]]Your memories come back. The careful planning for each murder. You remember the first, you were doing it for a purpose. To avenge the pain cast on you. You remember every name of everyone that hurt you. All the childhood bullies, the fake friends, and the merciless work colleagues. You warned them. You told them that for all the misery they caused you would cause more. The man on the floor. He was once a friend. A friend who chose to leave you to have a life with a complete stranger. After everything you did for them, they threw you aside like garbage. But you would not be cast aside. You baited the man to find you. You wanted to see his fear, to endure the pain you did. You never expected him to attack you. But you’re good. You would rather have left him alive to live through his pain, but complications happen. He stood in your home, asking what information you had. You poured him a glass of wine and talked about the good times. He was selfish, he pressed on about his daughter until you told him what you did. You watched him break piece by piece until his rage surfaced. You clawed at his face and ripped his eyes from their sockets in a brawl. His blood covering your hands like so many others. Adults were a lot more of a pain to deal with. You still recall his last words, "You are a monster". It makes sense now. Your daughter. You beautiful daughter. You went to collect her from school. Had waited longer than usual and still she had not emerged. You ran through the school, her friends and your family. No one knew where she was. That was 4 years ago. You remember the call. The police telling you they found her. Overdosed on drugs and abused. She looked smaller than when she went missing. Numb, that's not even close to what you felt. The feeling of loss cannot be summed up. However the anger that boils within knowing someone did this through choice, which fuels an anger of blood. Blood. When you heard the allegations against the man in the floor. His alleged involvement with trafficking girls you were warned to stay away. You became obsessed, planting yourself into the darkest depths of their world. Developing contacts and working your way through their network. To find him. He'd poured you a glass of wine, to thank you for organising the hotel room. For being a reliable informant and contact in the area. He had settled down, relaxed in your presence. This man, this murderer relaxed?! It happened so fast. Leaping upon the man with all your rage and fury. You beat the man into the floor. Heavily disguring his face with every punch. You don't regret your actions. And now this diary. There are more of these people. Taking away other fathers children. You can live with the blood on your hands. You can become the monster