[ Of course that's what he assumes. That's what any decent person would assume because most can't fathom murdering the people you love most in the world. He closes his eyes tightly, a lump forming in his throat that's hard to talk around, and his stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. ]

I did. I mean, I didn't. This isn't real. It isn't right. I never succeeded. I— [ His jaw clenches and he shakes his head, not knowing how to put it without making himself sound like a monster.

But he can tell that the demon is weakening just from the little talking he's done. He hates that, like everything else in this place, being honest about his past is what's necessary to defeat the evils that plague him.

Fucking forced therapy that's what this shit is. ]

But I tried to. I wanted to kill of them. I got close more than once. They were just always strong enough to save each other.