Our time is limited, dear friend. I made a promise that could not be kept. I was a fool-no, I will not allow myself to recklessly employ the past-tense so complacently; I am and remain incorrigibly foolish. I can only offer you a fool's apology: meaningless words of retrospection and regret that should be rightfully ignored. I ended Gordon's life and then injected you with false hope after leaving you for dead. Now, here I am, shamelessly opting to prolong the pain you've endured out of some form of guilt, believing that if I can save your life, my despicable behavior can somehow be redefined. Enough. Let us fade into obscurity together. Come, permit my selfishness once more and let us gaze upon times past, for these are likely our last moments on this depraved vessel.
Look here, do you recognize this man? That dumb grin? The magnificent sheen on that barren head? Your eyes do not deceive you; this is your owner. This is Gordon. He was a good friend of mine, and I did what any considerate companion would do and smashed his skull in with a baseball bat. I stole the life from his eyes, and in doing so I left you with the impossible task of fending for yourself in an environment perfectly suited to continuously stifle your attempts at survival. Now, Gordon's lifeless corpse is right over there, just feet from where we now sit. Unbelievable, isn't it? Only a truly twisted individual kills and then brings the victim's loved one unknowingly to the scene of the murder under the guise of compassion. It has become a rather blurry matter as to whether I have been helping you or holding you hostage.
Do you see this younger fellow here? His name is Graham; this middle-aged woman up over here is Melinda. They're both in the grocery store across the way, and I doubt they'll be leaving any time soon. You see, three men came in while I was busy cowering in the back of the store, and these two individuals made the grave mistake of ambling on up to greet them. Melinda promptly received a bullet through her eye, and after she collapsed immediately to the ground, the gunman proceeded to chop her to pieces right there in the canned food aisle. Graham clumsily stumbled into the same grisly, meticulous treatment. Just look at their faces, Shilah - a determined student and a devoted mother, both reduced to piles of goop not unlike what you might find inside a can of tomatoes. This is the state of the world.
Finally, we have this man here: Eduardo. He was shot by the woman hovering outside our window, watching us so intently. Shilah, I know that my words are weightless - ineffectual sentiments of regretful misconduct - but I implore you: accept my apologies, however hollow, before our lives are wiped from this planet. Offer me some façade of peace.