My name is Zhuang Mo.
I killed my younger sister with my own hands, made a comb from her bones, and kept her eyeballs in a jar by my bed, so she could stay with me forever and talk to me.
They said I was insane and wanted to take me away to “get treatment.”
But I’m clearer-headed than anyone: in this world, all the saints are dead. Only beasts can survive.
Last night, she asked me, “Brother, do eyes taste good?”
I said they did, chewing until my mouth was full of blood.
Today, a group of good people showed up outside the door, wanting to save me.
I smiled, holding a scalpel.
Be good and wait one minute.
Those fools at the door want to separate us.
I’ll peel off their skin and make you a carpet.
