[The image is faintly lit by wavering candles, but the camera is too close to see more than a few flames, nothing of the background. The meager lights flicker on the edges of dark fingers wrapped around a blood stained neck. The top of the screen cuts off just above Alex's chin, his mouth gaped open as the muscles in his neck jerk, and blood pumps
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My sincerest apologies.
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I imagine Sheriff Redfield will be less than pleased.
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What have you done?! You were supposed to be a man of the cloth! Why--why--
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Your flock shall perish, shepherd, until your faith is dead.
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Faith will never die.
But you shall. I swear it!
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I tremble with fear.
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Oh God...
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