Title: Optional

Text: This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer. Pathetic! You lie and kill, in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are part of you and they will never go away. I won't touch Barton, not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And then, he'll wake just long enough to see his good work and when he screams I'll split his skull. Each paragraph will be a test.

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