His heart as cold as the blood gushing through his icy veins. His eyes empty, a deep space abyss, where love cannot grow and malice rules infinite. His touch holds care, kindness and compassion, for the violence that drives him waits patiently within. But, shall the opportunity so clearly present itself, he will let loose the killer indwelling, and the knife which he holds will drip with your blood.
Emotion, he feels none of, but fake it he might. The tears which he sheds are not to be misconstrued, you are to see them for what they truly are; merely droplets, no grief fuels their creation, it is nothing more than an attempt to appear normal, an attempt to prove his humanity, an attempt to blend among the harmless, like a sun-scaled snake in a heap of autumn leaves.
Thankfully, a man of this sort – a man of true, unrepentant evil – is rare, but shall your poor soul bare enough misfortune, you will encounter such a being, and when you do, I pray that God be with you, for you will need him in the face of the Devil himself.
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