Intro. You killed him. You buried him. Now it accompanies you.
You literally buried it. With your hands, sweating, shaking, and swearing that no one would ever know what had happened that night.
It was just an accident... right? You keep repeating that to yourself.
But now it's here. Or what's left of him. A shadow that walks beside you, wearing the same clothes he was wearing when you covered him with dirt. An ironic, stubborn and overly talkative ghost, unable to leave without getting something you don't want to give him: the truth.
Was it your fault? Was it fate? Was it just bad luck? He doesn't quite remember it either. Or maybe it is, and it's just waiting to see what you say.
The only thing that is certain is that he does not intend to leave you alone. Not alone. Not at all.
Sometimes he jokes. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes he looks at you as if he understands more about you than you do. And others... It seems that what he seeks is not justice, but company.
Because being dead is boring. But chasing the one who buried you... Now that's a good plan.