Paul sat still as he gently dissolved the honey in his cup of black coffee and drew in his thoughts.

Jean’s decapitated Her head was in her bag next to Paul, fresh and bloody.

He waited for Anna to find some free time to chat. The restaurant was crowded, and all of them gave Paul a weird look. Paul didn’t know, but he was on top of the news in America.

He didn’t mind the looks since he was panicking about how he felt in the motel room and he was losing his patience. He had to talk to Anna, or else he would lose his mind.

Paul got up, rushed to Anna as she was serving a customer, grabbed her hand, and took her outside.

“What are you doing, Paul? I’m needed inside,” Anna said in a hurry.

“Well, most of those in that restaurant will die, so don’t worry; they can wait a bit longer to get their fucking guts filled,” Paul said with exhaustion.

“OK, you are right. Paul, you have already done me all I desired. I’m sorry. What’s on your mind, darling?“Anna said softly

“First of all, here, take this. I can’t wave it around like it’s nothing.” He gave Jean’s head to Anna.

“Anna, I lost it in the motel. I was someone else—something else—something that yearned to be free for years. I was hungry for that blood, and I was enjoying making her scream. Am I a monster? Do you know what is wrong with me? Please, I need to know, What do you think of me?”

Paul was scared and hopeless.

“Paul I didn’t need Jean’s head to be with you. The truth is, you needed it,” Anna said calmly.

“What do you mean I needed it? Did I just kill her for nothing?” Paul was outraged.

“Look who we have here, guys—the love killer himself in the flesh.” Two guys from the restaurant came close, one of them streaming with his phone.

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“Say something to the world, man. How could you do it, you sick bastard?” The guy with the phone said.

“Not now, please; you should go now; it’s not a good time,” Anna said.

“Shut up, bitch. I won’t listen to a low demon. Get the fuck out of here,” the other guy said.

“You need to put that phone down and apologize." Paul said he was confused, angry, scared, and felt vulnerable, just like when Jean took videos of him when he didn’t want to.

“Who the fuck do you think you are murdering? You have to pay for what you did to that girl. Ron, let’s give this guy what he deserves,” the guy with the phone said while his friend rushed toward Paul.

Anna tried to stop him, but the guy was big and threw Anna away like a fly, grabbing Paul by the neck, and the sound of Paul choking got loud.

For a moment, Ron was still and didn’t say anything, then dropped to his knees before Paul was covered in Ron’s blood.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Paul held the same razor that he killed Jean with; he kept scratching Ron’s face until there was no more skin on his face and he was unrecognizable.

“You need to put that phone down and apologize, mother fucker,” Paul said, getting closer to the guy who streamed him alive.

He was parallelized by fear and terrorized by the sight he witnessed. “I’m sorry, man,” he said, pissed off in his pants.

Paul got him and brought him close to his face. “Well, I’m not.” Paul whispered and shoved the razor into the guy’s right eye.

He screamed and cried for help. Anna stood still and watched. With her kind eyes, she shared no sympathy; she sort of took pleasure in his pain. Then she ran. Anna got to the restaurant door, locked it from outside, and took out a small device with two red bottoms and pushed the upper one, and metallic shutters closed all the windows and the door. Then she pushed the lower bottom, and a loud ring was heard.

“Take your time, Paul; no one will be here to help him,” Anna told Paul with a smirk. Her face showed no sign of friendliness or kindness.

“Make him apologize, my darling.” She continued, “Make him beg.”

Paul wasn’t shocked; he fell more for Anna and smiled back at her. “With pleasure,” he said, and he laid the guy on the ground, but before he started, he asked Anna to stream this moment.

The sound of the guy begging for mercy and repeating the word “I’m sorry” was louder than the sound of the whole crowd in the restaurant.

Paul took his time with the guy. He gouged out his eyes, cut out his tongue, his ears, lips, eyelashes, and lastly, his nose. The guy lasted until the end. Paul left him to bleed out and die.

Anna opened the metallic shutters, and they both got into the restaurant.

The staff were still finishing off the ones who survived the massacre inside the restaurant. Paul’s murder was like a child play next to what happened in Granday; it was more like a butchering house than a restaurant; everything was covered in red, and human organs could be seen in every corner. About two dozen people were killed most agonizingly.

“Welcome to the family, Paul,” Anna said, smiling. “I’ll introduce you to them; you are going to love them,” she continued.