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It wasn't my fault. I didn't want to kill them. So you can, hehe, imagine my joy when I finished my sentence.

Reintegrating into society after being convicted of mass murder is a difficult feat. At least I had that chance. So I applied for a job at a local store, and managed to find the money I borrowed from those kind souls that I accidentally hurt, which I used to pay off the bills on my home and reclaim it.

In the following weeks, I felt something off. Perhaps it was the people. Nobody spoke to me. After all, why would they? They thought I was a murderer. But I'm not.

A murderer is a cold-blooded taker of life, like Seeker. I was hunting and accidentally hit a guy.

But that wasn't it. Something else was wrong. I spent my days working and barely scraping a living, for I had blown through the money I borrowed trying to win the lottery. But can you blame me? I'm only human.

As for my discomfort, I concluded it was my false guilt. I had spent fifty years being told I killed some people, and now I was starting to believe the lie. I didn't murder. I just hit the wrong thing.

One night, however, I heard something. Outside my window, I saw a large pair of claws scratching at the wall. In fear, I lunged for a flashlight, the lightswitch, anything. It turned out to just be a branch.

The next morning, I made breakfast, but I didn't notice it until I had taken a bite of my cereal.

I looked down and nearly vomited. In place of milk was a black oozing liquid. It smelled like a corpse, and tasted very akin to copper.

I threw the meal away and thought. Someone was messing with me. Maybe one of the victim's family members was still upset. But they shouldn't be.

I decided to just go ahead and get my shift done. My boss seemed to notice something, as he asked me to take the rest of the day off. Unquestioningly, I listened.

I began to feel an uncomfortable sensation within my gut. Maybe that black gunk was poisonous. But the pharmacist found nothing wrong, and just gave me some kind of OTC medicine for the aches.

On my way back, I saw something behind me. I turned and saw a figure standing behind me. Its face was covered with hair, and its faded blue coat was torn. I turned and kept going.

After a while I looked back. It was still behind me, but closer. As I passed under a streetlight, I saw all the figure's details.

And then I stopped cold. No. It couldn't be him. He was dead. The Imperial Guard had seen to that. But there he was, standing as plain as day. I turned and ran.

I reached my home and slammed the door shut. I hurried to turn off all the lights. Then I locked myself in the bathroom.

Why me? I was innocent. I didn't kill them, I was solving the overpopulation issue. But that wasn't it. No, he knew. My claims couldn't hide my guilt. The God of Sinners knew it all.

In fear, I called out. "Alright, I'm sorry! I murdered them all! I know it was wrong, just please spare my life!"

No response.

That leads us to now. I'm still hiding in here, and I hope that he decides to leave. But in here I'm safe. He won't f-

Description
It wasn't my fault. I didn't want to kill them. So you can, hehe, imagine my joy when I finished my sentence.

Reintegrating into society after being convicted of mass murder is a difficult feat. At least I had that chance. So I applied for a job at a local store, and managed to find the money I borrowed from those kind souls that I accidentally hurt, which I used to pay off the bills on my home and reclaim it.

In the following weeks, I felt something off. Perhaps it was the people. Nobody spoke to me. After all, why would they? They thought I was a murderer. But I'm not.

A murderer is a cold-blooded taker of life, like Seeker. I was hunting and accidentally hit a guy.

But that wasn't it. Something else was wrong. I spent my days working and barely scraping a living, for I had blown through the money I borrowed trying to win the lottery. But can you blame me? I'm only human.

As for my discomfort, I concluded it was my false guilt. I had spent fifty years being told I killed some people, and now I was starting to believe the lie. I didn't murder. I just hit the wrong thing.

One night, however, I heard something. Outside my window, I saw a large pair of claws scratching at the wall. In fear, I lunged for a flashlight, the lightswitch, anything. It turned out to just be a branch.

The next morning, I made breakfast, but I didn't notice it until I had taken a bite of my cereal.

I looked down and nearly vomited. In place of milk was a black oozing liquid. It smelled like a corpse, and tasted very akin to copper.

I threw the meal away and thought. Someone was messing with me. Maybe one of the victim's family members was still upset. But they shouldn't be.

I decided to just go ahead and get my shift done. My boss seemed to notice something, as he asked me to take the rest of the day off. Unquestioningly, I listened.

I began to feel an uncomfortable sensation within my gut. Maybe that black gunk was poisonous. But the pharmacist found nothing wrong, and just gave me some kind of OTC medicine for the aches.

On my way back, I saw something behind me. I turned and saw a figure standing behind me. Its face was covered with hair, and its faded blue coat was torn. I turned and kept going.

After a while I looked back. It was still behind me, but closer. As I passed under a streetlight, I saw all the figure's details.

And then I stopped cold. No. It couldn't be him. He was dead. The Imperial Guard had seen to that. But there he was, standing as plain as day. I turned and ran.

I reached my home and slammed the door shut. I hurried to turn off all the lights. Then I locked myself in the bathroom.

Why me? I was innocent. I didn't kill them, I was solving the overpopulation issue. But that wasn't it. No, he knew. My claims couldn't hide my guilt. The God of Sinners knew it all.

In fear, I called out. "Alright, I'm sorry! I murdered them all! I know it was wrong, just please spare my life!"

No response.

That leads us to now. I'm still hiding in here, and I hope that he decides to leave. But in here I'm safe. He won't f-