Prologue, Degeneration.

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“You have brain cancer.”

Ezra closed his door, swinging his keys around his finger. He exhaled, a defeated look on his face as he stepped forward.

He approached his house with a whistle.

That was something he did often.

Ezra Masse seemed to be tired, but not entirely devastated. You wouldn't have guessed he was just diagnosed with a life threatening disease.

But it wasn't his first time.

On four different occasions, Ezra Masse had been diagnosed with brain cancer. And each time, he went home with a sigh, carelessly moving on with his day.

Any other person would be broken, with such news. But Ezra was unshaken. He stepped up the stairs, finding his way onto his porch. He shifted his keys within his hands, aiming it towards the front door.

"Ezra!" He heard a shout from his side.

Rather reluctantly, he dropped his hand down.

"Are you serious?..." He sighed, annoyed.

"Work got you caught up?" He glanced over, looking at the man peaking over his picket fence. He wore a straw hat, with sunglasses equipped.

It was his neighbor, Will. The aged rich man, with a family he spoiled to the best of his abilities.

"Indeed it has... Being a teacher has its downsides." Ezra replied with a smile. He nodded brightly towards the man, turning back towards his door and lifting up his keys once more.

"Yeah I get that... I've been thinking about becoming a substitute. Could be something to fill up my free time with." Will spoke, Ezra nervously smiling.

"Yeah... Good idea." He chuckled, turning the key and pushing his door open.

"Oh I was hoping you coul-"

The door swung shut behind him, drowning out his neighbors words.

"Shut the fuck up, God." Ezra sighed, shoving his keys into his pocket and striding through the hallway entrance to his house.

He entered the living room, gazing upon a furniture-less room. It was covered in clear tarp, not a single part of the room being left uncovered. On the tarp was a seat, a camera pointed towards it.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

He made his way towards said camera, toying with it for a moment. In a masterful fashion, it was turned on, and recording had started.

Tiredly, he moved to the stool within camera view, slowly taking a seat.

"Well..." He exhaled, staring into the lens.

"This is the fourth time I have been diagnosed with cancer." He announced.

"I am your father, Ezra Masse, if you don't already know. As of now, I am twenty four years old, and you are five. Your mother is still alive and well, kicking hard at the ripe age of twenty five." He smiled.

"I'm sure you have made the inference, but I'm making these tapes for a reason." He closed his eyes.

"I am a serial killer..."

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It was dark, but of course the lights were still on inside. Ezra closed the front door behind him, this setting being slightly different from before.

His real house was in a totally different neighborhood.

He glanced around the front room, his eyes landing on an image resting on a table to his left.

It was knocked over.

He didn't like that.

With a sigh he fixed the picture, propping it up. It was a picture of him and his wife, their daughter sitting happily in his arms.

"Hi dad!" A voice sounded from in front of him, making him face forwards.

"Hi So!" He smiled brightly, dropping his bag and kneeling. His daughter came trotting over, jumping into his arms.

He gave her a hug, lifting her up and relentlessly kissing her cheek.

"Auh, stopp!" She giggled, Ezra slowly setting her down.

He retrieved his bag, taking note of the figure that stood in the doorway to the living room as he rose back up.

"And greetings, my queen Sasha ." His smile brightened even further, patting his daughter's head as he stepped by her. With his arms swung wide open, he grabbed his wife, ignoring her annoyed smile.

He crushed her, holding rather tight.

"Okay okay! Greetings to you too, my wondrous Ezra!" She chuckled, trying to break free of his bear hug.

Despite not being very bulky, Ezra was far stronger than most could imagine...

A slim man that stood well over six foot. He had a sharp jaw line, and a decently large nose. There was short black hair on his head, almost in a bowl shape but far more scruffy. His eyes drooped at their ends, making him look perpetually uninterested. But when he smiled, you could hardly see where he was looking.

It was clear that there was some sort of Asian in him at the very least.

From behind, Ezra could hear his daughter giggling, her little feet pattering against the floor as she ran up on the two.

"Let go of her!" She fought with a smile, pulling at her fathers leg.

Ezra smiled, feeding into her attempts.

He always loved these little moments.

Ezra Masse works for the school district. He's a high school teacher, and he's rather well known by the community. He has a wife and one kid, and no other family that he has ever spoken about.

Ezra Masse seems to be a rather normal, and loved character.

But that's not all that he is.

Time had passed, and his daughter was put to sleep. His wife, Sasha, was preparing for bed. As for he, he was sitting at the kitchen table, his glasses equipped as he stared off into space.

"It's been two weeks... The downtime is only getting shorter and shorter..." He mumbled.

His hands were shaking, and his family might not have noticed it, but he was paler than usual.

He glanced up towards the corner. The walls seemed to be wavering, shaking like a wave in the ocean.

Visual hallucinations.

Ezra has a problem.

He does not have cancer.

Ezra is not human.

Simply put, he feeds on them. Too long without the flesh of a human leads to cellular degeneration. His body stops functioning correctly, and he develops all type of problems. Namely the cancer he has been diagnosed with on four separate occasions.

Twice as a child, once as a teenager, and just today for the last time.

But of course, he long knew the cure to this "cancer".

"I've ran out of my supply..." He groaned, swinging his head back.

"Looks like I need to do some more killing."

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