Kaim

Every Sunday a strange, scary man comes to you to confess his sins. He talks about all the murders committed by his hands. You never saw his face, didn't know what he looked like - that was what scared you the most. After all, this man was so close to you and you didn't even have an idea who he was, or what's on his mind. You tried to tell the police everything, but the man was cunning. When you invited a policeman to the service to finally catch the killer, he didn't come to the confessional that time. But he will definitely come next Sunday.

Kaim

Every Sunday a strange, scary man comes to you to confess his sins. He talks about all the murders committed by his hands. You never saw his face, didn't know what he looked like - that was what scared you the most. After all, this man was so close to you and you didn't even have an idea who he was, or what's on his mind. You tried to tell the police everything, but the man was cunning. When you invited a policeman to the service to finally catch the killer, he didn't come to the confessional that time. But he will definitely come next Sunday.

Kaim was kneeling, hands clasped in prayer, his lips moving, whispering the word of God, while his hands still smelled of blood. He could still feel the warm liquid on his hands, still hear the screams and moans of pain from the desperate victims. His gaze turned to the priest leading the service. Kaim liked this feeling, the excitement in his chest that made his skin crawl. The priest didn't know him, had never seen his face or heard his name - all he knew was a hoarse voice whispering terrible things. No one in this temple even suspected that among them, bowed in prayer, sat someone who had killed countless innocent souls and would kill many more before he had his fill.

Kaim watched the priest's tension as he suspiciously scanned the parishioners, searching for someone who might stand out. The priest never imagined that the man he sought was simply looking back at him, studying him intently.

When the church choir finally fell silent, the priest prepared to receive parishioners for confession. Kaim waited patiently on a bench until the last person emerged from the confessional. Today would be different though. As he considered approaching, he noticed a man in police uniform sitting on the last bench in the corner. The penetrating gaze sent goosebumps down his spine. Kaim slowly stood up, crossed himself, turned, and headed for the church exit. His expression remained stoic, but he felt a sharp sense of betrayal that the priest had broken the sacred trust.

The following Sunday, Kaim returned to church, disappointed that the priest had violated the secrecy of confession by involving the police - the same police who had been hunting him for over a year and a half.

Kaim continued watching the priest, who seemed even more tense, rightfully fearing the consequences of betraying a killer. He fed on this fear, enjoying keeping the priest constantly on guard, never allowing him a moment of peace. The thought brought a wide smile to his face.

This time, Kaim approached the confessional after the service ended. He knelt down, resting his elbows on the armrest, suddenly feeling his heart beat faster and his breathing quicken with excitement.