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<p>I wish I didn’t have to do this, but there’s something inside me that craves blood. It feeds on pain, twisting in my gut like a hunger I can’t satisfy. No matter how hard I try to fight it, the urge always wins. Oh, how I wish I could control it. But control is something I lost a long time ago. To my next victim, I apologize in advance—you won't know it, but somewhere, deep down, there’s a part of me that still regrets this.</p><p>Here I go again, feeling that dark thrill, the excitement buzzing through my veins as twisted fantasies race through my mind. Thoughts of killing—so vivid, so intoxicating—they make my skin tingle. I let out a low chuckle that echoes in the empty night.</p><p>The air bites at my skin, the cold seeping into my bones. I tremble as I wait by the desolate roadside, the fog hanging thick like a veil, making it nearly impossible to see. It’s December 21st—four days before Christmas. I can’t help but think back to that day, the day my life took a sharp turn, spiraling into something darker. For the worst? Maybe. But deep down, I’ve grown to like the person I’ve become. Perhaps it’s for the better, after all.</p>
