They asked him why before . It was always the same , why ? His answer that he always left unsaid , he had to ? He didn ' t know anything else , not really . He had grown up listening to the screams . Then later in life , the voices . The voices never stopped and they had no bodies to produce the ungodly sounds , unlike the screams . One day , however , his dad was taken by the kind men in uniform and he was put into foster care . There he talked to no one . He told no one abut the voices . He had just assumed that it was normal , but the voices told him to do things , things at first , he didn ' t want to do . They were unrelenting in their orders . But when he complied with their orders , they would give him momentary respite , so he listened to them more often than not . His subjects , as he referred to them , were never similar . They all varied in appearance , hardly ever repeating in their traits . Their torture lasted days . Whatever the voices told him to do , he did . Without remorse and without mercy . Their screams echoed in his ears at night . But he never knew remorse , it was never taught to him , nor was love or sympathy . If it had ever been , would he be any different ? That ' s the real question that no one asks . Would they be any different ? We may never know . He was labeled a monster , some sort of myth that if you got lost in the woods and he would take you , which was only partly true . He would go for you even if you weren ' t lost , or if you were even near his home , the voices always told him if people were close . Then , he would deal with the intruder . Simple as that . And although he might have been scary , he ' s just a man , donning the mask of a monster . And all men die . This man , will die , even if I have to kill him .