An eerie silence hung throughout his sanctuary.



Not much had changed…the floors were still damp from the night prior. Not from the rain though, the whole floor was drenched with thick, putrid, dark red blood. The smell lingered hundreds of meters from the cabin as it wasn’t the only blood to preserve in the carpets. Years of death floating around the sanctuary of Troy Callum. The uneven ground a few metres beside the cabin containing whatever was left from everything that was dragged out of there over the years.

Lying inside the cabin, right beside him…



…was whatever was left of the unknown creature Callum decided to mutilate. Almost a necessity at this point, these animals never quite gave him the desired euphoria slaughtering a man does. Yet he had no other choice as the cabin had become his chamber over the past 4 years. Too paranoid to make any human contact, not until that woman’s murder case had been dropped. It’s amazing how an asylum can make a man prefer to eat stray dog meat rather than go back.

However, he paid no attention to the carcass lying beside him. He stood there, in the exact same position, for what seemed like hours. His body hadn’t moved an inch, neither had he blinked…his eyes fixed on a map of Tennessee. 4 years of patience had paid off; he can commit the one atrocity which had morbid thoughts eating away at him. The entire wall was covered with newspaper and magazine cut outs he managed to steal. One way or another, they all had one man’s face on it. Yet his eyes stayed locked on a page ripped out from a guide book, a part of Tennessee. From years of being able to do nothing but plan how he would slay Mark Flynn, he analysed everything he was doing, all his promos…segments…matches…reading every newspaper article he was mentioned in…every magazine he was promoted on…Flynn had let slip where he resides. His patience had paid off, now it was finally time.

He memorised the exact location and left the cabin with nothing more than an old, worn out duffle bag.