AAAAH! The rush of adrenalin as you are running from certain death, the grinding of metal against bone as your demise is sealed, the feeling of numbness as your nerves shut down causing you to be unable to feel anything.
This, my friend, is what i live for.
Ironic, isnt it? Building your entire life up to this point, only to give your soul up to the devil himself, well, that is if hell wnats me, and if so, i deserve every second of it.
Ahem, let me introduce myself, my name is Jack Thompson, Killer, Psycopath and an overall nice guy.
Well, atleast i dont THINK i am a so-called "Psyco", I have never been tested, but popular belief will have it so, but before i became the man standing (or laying down) in front of you, i was what you would call a "paranormal ivestigator", I had always been a fan of Edgar Allan Poes writing, and so i decided to start my own search for spirits and ghouls roaming the earth, just waiting for an opertunity to strike and drive a grown man to madness and dispair.
I remember the first time i came to this town, this god dammed foggy hellhole of a town, "Silent Hill" they used to call it back then, now, its just called "That fucking town up the hill" in popular.
I remember going up to "Old mill pound" whit my ol`granpa, the old bag of rocks would struggle up the hill all crook-backed making him look like that huchback from the old "Frankenstein" movies, that day was also the first day i ever killed someone.