"As the sun sets, the Artist cannot seem to escape his own imagination. Completely lost in self-indulgence, he begins to see Annabel's face everywhere. The visions of her usher his wandering, delusional thoughts back to the day when he first fell in love with her. He soon becomes obsessed with the fantasy that she could possibly still be alive. The Artist scrambles home in a hastened fury only to be stopped dead in his tracks at his front porch by a man who introduces himself as the Thespian - the man who killed Annabel."
The night sky feels as though it has never been darker with the fleeting hope of vengeance compelling me. I will attempt to recollect myself and resume my chase but what is it i that i am chasing, am i really chasing anything at all? Or am i simply drowning myself in revenge to avoid the horrifying truth? I’ve lost the only thing that made me feel truly alive. Are my hands responsible? Are his? Who was he? Who was the madman that stood before me tonight? I swear i’ve seen His face before. I know i’ve seen His face before.