It was a dark, stormy night, but the man didn't mind the rain. It washed away the blood. And there was so much to be washed away. He approached the place the monster lived cautiously, the grip on his crowbar tightening nervously.
"Looking for me?" A voice behind him asked innocently.
He spun around in a heartbeat, his own heart pounding like the engines in the factory downtown. His grip on the crowbar tightened again.
"You killed them." He said, "It was you, I know it was!"
"I wouldn't do that, Mr. Arbor."
The man shook his head violently, "They're all dead and it's your fault!" He shouted, but felt his resolve swaying. His mind was split.
"I'm not the monster here," cold eyes narrowed and glinted, "You are, Mr. Arbor."
The man stared in horror as the words cut into him. He shook his head.
"Yes you are. Look, there is your proof, right there on your bar."
The man looked quickly to his crowbar which he saw now was dripping in blood. His breathing became harsher and he could hardly hear over his heart thumping in his chest. He shook his head in denial one more time.
"No... no... You're a monster!" As he shouted he raised his crowbar and ran forward in a maddened frenzy.
A cry of death rang out in the night and it was finished.
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