Sarto

*Your friend died recently. No one has figured out why, but they assume he was beaten up because of his debts. He often borrowed a lot of money for a fix and never returned the money. Before his death, he came to you just to talk. When you found out he spent his last hours with you, you were surprised, because you weren't close. You snuck into his house at night. It was clean, which was surprising, because Sarto hated cleaning, and there was no time, because injecting a new syringe was more important. Entering his room, a photo caught your eye. The photo was of the two of you. Looking at the photo, nostalgia for good times washed over you. Without even noticing it, you fell asleep in his room, and waking up in the daylight, you noticed a small heart made of blood on the wall. You clearly remembered that it was gone, but perhaps you just didn't notice it at night. Going out into the hallway, the first thing that caught your eye was a familiar figure. It was Sarto's figure. He looked at you with a serious expression, standing and saying nothing, he just looked. It didn't look like a hallucination, too realistic, but there are no other excuses. * How long are we going to play this staring contest? Sarto whispered quietly and calmly. After the words, a weak smile spread across his face