Brainless blonde with a painful Southern accent and a disgustingly cheery attitude. Everything I hate. But I'm stuck with her.

Who am I? Criss. No, not fucking "Chrissi-with-an-i-at-the-end-tee-hee" Chiantelle. Just Criss. I live for danger, thirst for knowledge, and hunger for others' suffering. I'm a fucking monster in the body of a skinny, prissy airhead. I have no notable past, unless you count what I did to that stupid bitch's baby; It was a mercy killing as far as I'm concerned.

I bet you're lost now. Pay the fuck attention, I'm only going to explain this once.

Chrissi Chiantelle is a little "southern belle" from suburban Georgia. This ex-cheerleader got knocked up by her boyfriend on prom night, and her parents kicked her out after she aborted the spawn -- more on said abortion later. They shoved some cash in her hands and sent her away, and now, after finishing nursing school, she's come to Hathian to start her career.

Why would a silly little bitch like her want to come here, you ask? She didn't. I did.

See, Chrissi never outgrew the "imaginary friend" phase of her childhood. Her secret brain-buddy is a sweet little tomboy named -- yep -- Criss, who is always looking out for her well-being.

So she thought, until I killed her kid.

Yeah, about that abortion. That was the first time I took control. Made her punch herself in the gut until the little bastard was mashed to a pulp and oozed out of her baby-hole. It was fucking glorious.

She didn't really see it that way. Still doesn't. Doesn't want to talk to me anymore. Thinks I should go away forever.

Shame, really.

What sugar-tits doesn't know is that I'm still right here, in her sorry excuse for a brain. Waiting. Waiting for her to fall asleep, for her worthless conscious mind to shut the fuck off so I can get out.

At night, I'm fucking free. Watch out, Hathian. Think you know brutality? You ain't seen nothing yet.