Chapter 1- Blood Never washes Away:
I awoke to the stench of fresh piss and vomit of the insane drunk who spends his life drinking and singing. As I normally do, I checked all of my pockets for my knife. I wrapped my mask into a ball and placed it inside my inner coat pocket.
Earl, the insane drunk, was up and half way through his second bottle of whiskey by the time I left the alley. Earl was known around town as the poor soul that gave into his demons, yet I think differently of him. I do pity the man, I truly do, but I also envy him. Earl never worries about the consequences of his actions. He simply acts, and nobody minds it. I wish every day that I was able to be Earl. My actions haunt me, as well as the people whom I act upon.
I walked down Main Street, just as I always do to get to my informant. I never look up when I'm walking. I find that every time I look at people, I see those that no longer walk among us. I see the look those face's that I erased from existence. They never leave my mind. I merely stare down to Hell, which is where I belong. Yes, I do run into people. They do stare at me, or yell at me when I stumble into them. They swear in anger as I continue walking, but I don't look back. Looking behind one's self only shows weakness. It shows the child that we really are.
My face itches. I haven't shaved in almost a week. The small cuts on my face have caused my facial hair to grow slowly and painfully. My scars are too sore to even touch anymore. Each time I take someone's identity, my face burns like hot coal in a train. I can only imagine what my victims go through during the transition.
The cool air causes my body to shiver. I'm cold only when in Chicago. My body seems to heat up from the adrenaline during a mission. The warm blood splashing against my body feels good only for a moment, until the horror sets in.
I have become severely depressed in the past few months. I don't want to kill anymore. I just want to sleep. I'm always tired these days, and my eyes never stay open. I dose off even in important times. When stalking my target, i seem to dose off for a moment, only to find that its been too long. I miss my time to strike silently and swiftly. Instead, I'm forced to kill multiple men just to kill one. I want to sleep and never wake up, yet my thirst for blood grows at night.