I am a monster. Monsters don't live under the fucking bed or the closet. They don't appear in a puff of smoke. No, monsters are like me: the quiet guy who walks a drunk woman home, a protective uncle, that unassuming guy with the friendly smile who fixes your porch. We do our work in the dark, we lurk in the shadows, but we roam during the day, scouting our next prey.
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