Sam cautiously picked up the small package, just barely comprehending what exactly was going on.  He took a look at the strange device before him.  He knew how to write, yet the idea of recording his thoughts seemed... somehow appealing to him.  Sam looked up into Thorn's eyes, feeling a wonderful gratitude.  His cheek came to her shoulder, and he snuggled her, pressing his cheek as hard as he could against her as he simply rubbed against her body, trying to express the affection he felt.  Sam nodded to Thorn and cautiously and slipped away to the table, clutching his treasure.<br/><br/>He picked up a pen off a nearby desk and looked at it, slowly taking pen to paper, making a few lines experementally, before finally simply writing, leaning down and discussing his world.<br/><br/><br/><em>I don't remember how long it's been like this.<br/><br/>I don't really remember much of anything anymore.  Each day, I wake up, serve Master, and I go to bed, knowing that I've been a good boy.  It's a routine, I like it.<br/><br/>Master is the most important thing in the world to me.  More important even to me than killing.  I don't think anything special about who I am or what I do.  I'm a victim turned killer, pure and simple.  There was once a boy named Sam, but he's gone now.  Murdered.  By me.  It felt so nice, as his last whimpers went away...<br/><br/>I keep on serving master.  It's all I know anymore...<br/></em><br/><br/>Sam wrote in this vien for a while, finally filling up several pages in his notebook, feeling strangely at peace with himself, now that he realized how crucial his killing was to his identity.  He smiled at Thorn, getting off the chair and curling near her, hoping to perhaps get a scrap of food.