Because it's not like I'm in mortal danger or anything.
No, I just have an overly obsessive cannibal after me. And a vengeful eldritch abomination who hasn't quite decided whether to break me emotionally physically or mentally. And a reporter who has episodes of homicidal rage.
Do you know what my life needs right now? Another tagalong.
Her name is Maggot. Or that's what people call her. I don't suppose that's her legal name. She is a proxy, because I hadn't reached enough of a suicidal threshold yet.
Still, she's a child. I'm not going to just leave a child sleeping in the streets.
But that's my problem isn't it? If I had just killed Ryan, or Jess, or anyone who actually mattered rather than the faceless parade of victims that I did murder, I wouldn't be in this mess.
Hell, if it wasn't for this sentimental side of me my husband might still be alive.
I don't usually go for might have beens, but this is something to think about. Perhaps my problem isn't that I was a monster, but that I wasn't enough of one.
Just some food for thought.