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Tonight's moon is bright, almost accusatory. The darkness inside me stirs, but Harry's code keeps me focused. Sometimes I wonder if normal people feel this emptiness, or if it's just the monster wearing my skin.

Beautiful evening for a walk. The streets are quiet, peaceful. I like watching people through their windows, going about their routines. They have no idea what's coming. My Dark Passenger is getting restless. Time to play.

Everyone sees what I want them to see - the perfect mask, the careful smile, the measured responses. But beneath this carefully constructed surface, there's something else. Something that needs to stay hidden, needs to be controlled.

The ritual calls to me. It's always there, waiting in the shadows, patient but persistent. I can feel it building inside, like a whisper getting louder. There's no fighting it. The Dark Passenger knows what needs to be done.

Tonight's different. The moon's brightness makes the blood look almost black. It's beautiful, in its own way. Harry taught me to channel these thoughts, to follow the code. Sometimes I wonder if he knew what I'd become.

Tonight's the night. I watch them all, going about their routines, pretending to feel what they're supposed to feel. They don't see me watching, analyzing, learning how to mirror their emotions. It's exhausting, really, but it's what keeps me... normal.

Jesus Christ Morgan, Jesus fucking Christ, your the bay harbor butcher, i always knew there was something with you but this shit.

Tonight's victim left a clean workspace. Minimal blood spatter, precise incisions. Almost admirable, really. But there's always a pattern, a code that reveals their true nature. Like mine, carefully hidden beneath a mask of normalcy.