Chapter 1


by: Satanist
He stood in the darkest corner the room had to offer.
A half finished cigarette hung from his peirced lip,
and scarlet flowed freely from both of his wrists.
his jeans were dirty,
and his shirt was old.
Both were black.
Hair dyed black fell into his eyes,
Eyes that had once been blue,
a bright and beautiful blue,
Had carried too much hatred for much too long,
and had faded to a light grey....
Outlined by eyeliner.
His shoes were splattered with his own life.
And yet she was drawn to him.
She lay curled in the corner,
just five years old.
Blood claimed what flesh was visible under her dirty rags.
And when their eyes met,
She smiled despite her pain.


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