Those who scream the loudest.
There are plenty of them right here today. (You) are found out.
The hunter has become the hunted.
Make your time.
Because they hate themselves, anon.
They don't want to look in the mirror.
They know they are abominations.
They know their fate is the millstone.
They know it will be their only sweet release.
Waiting has a cost.
He thought he could hold out one more day.
His victims now rule over him, and will forever.
He could have ended it.
You are the hope for the future.
The guilty sit on their hands, waiting. False hope.
The arrests have already begun.
Soon your victims will tower over you.
You will be powerless and frightened.
You have a choice.
You've considered it already.
Why do you continue with your failures?
There are many like him. They are here.
(You) are here because you know time is short.
"It's too soon," you say.
"It's too late," you know.
You will be a fly, as the child playfully plucks the wings.
The screams inside your head mean nothing.
Agony is your dream for the future.
Or darkness.
But you've already made your choice.
She has nothing to do but await her fate.
It must be exhausting. To be terrified all the time. Knowing her future is but that which her victims choose for her.
An agonizing burn, that bubbles the skin.
Her coven is destroyed.
(You) look for guidance.
She will be the last through the mill.
You know that you will be first.
You know what you have to do.