He places me on the concrete floor, expressionless as he studies me. “It’ll be easier next time,” he whispers, “killing on command.” 1352 hunkers in front of me, his brown eyes boring into mine. “They’ll desensitise you through exposure or drive you mad by it. Either way, sooner or later the death will cease to matter to you. All that remains to be seen is if you’ll retain your sanity when that happens.”“Is that what they did to you?” I snarl at him, my fear of the truth in his admission urging me to anger.“No,” 1352 answers simply, “they didn’t need to because I’ve been theirs from the moment I woke up.” He rests a palm over my chest, “You though, you still have a heart. You’re not a corpse made animate. They need to kill you before they can possess you but death is not always the stilling of a pulse. Sometimes it takes the more complex task of destroying a soul to kill a person, rather than simply sending it on its way. They need to corrupt you because they need you to behave in a way that overshadows everything you’ve ever stood for previously, only then can they claim you.
