I have never cried over death. Only my own pain. This may sound shelfish but it is true. Death has run through my family like swine flu; from one generation to the next leaving only one to live. It will only be a matter of time before the Johnsons are but meere memories of long forgotten friends or the nice old lady across the road. It is every man for himself and the last man standing will recieve what he is looking for and will leave alive... But who, what, why? Those questions are best left unanswered, and if you come round looking... well let's just say, Curiousity Kills the Cat.
Begging won't work, it only brings him more satisfaction.
Crying will only prolong your life in the slightest, but at that point you'll wish you were dead.
Being quiet only makes him know you're trying to be strong, though you're failing and you both know it.
Nothing ever works, in this house of madness. Once you've stumbled upon the door step, you'll wish you had listened to the saying "curiosity killed the cat". Because in this house, you're the cat, also known as his prey. You'll never leave, never escape.
Few make it past midnight, even less make it pass 2:00 a.m. Almost no one makes it past 4:00 a.m., and no one, has made it to the morning.