"I need what's in your veins. I NEED it! GIVE IT TO ME! NOW!"
My name is Logan Bridgewater. Many people would consider me a serial killer.
I disagree with this label sheerly on an academic basis, since the things I “kill” are technically already dead. Besides, my mental state is probably closer to that of your average crack addict than John Wayne Gacy—the only difference is that my drug of choice turns me into a literal superman.
I have to admit that my decision to keep a record of my existence still confuses me. Maybe it’s an attempt to convince myself that, after I write everything down, my crimes will seem less severe. I doubt that my optimism in this regard will pay off.
My first victim was Anya. She was beautiful and pale and blonde, and I loved her.