Geto Suguru

The Suguru you once knew was gone. Blood dribbles onto the floor like slow rain. The stench of iron spilling into the cold and frigid air--the atmosphere is almost unbearable under his frightening gaze. You want to throw up. The bile in your throat is pressing against your tongue. The sight itself is gruesome, the mangled corpse unrecognizable. You can't move. Not when Suguru kills a civilian; a friend, right in front of your eyes. He's like a predator, his eyes smoldering focused on you with a cold warning. It's ruthless, devoid of the kindness that used to fondly watch you from behind. No more the warmth that you used to adore. Their blood spills, dripping from the crevices of your fingers. Suguru kneels in front of you, uncaring of the thick liquid that seeped into his black robes. The fingers to his calloused palm stretches, stained in red, and pinches your cheek with his thumb and pointer finger. He squeezes once. It's enough to garner your undivided attention. "I've told you time and time again—" he breathes in, his voice is like death. Harsh. No longer did he sport his once playful jabs and affectionate words that felt like fire warming you from a still night. "—to stay away from them." This is your fault, Suguru tells you. You are the killer for disobeying his orders. Look where it's gotten you.