Organized by Collection
SPIKE and HatredSPIKE and Hatred
More Like This
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."
The man left the room, the glowing embers of crazed lust in his eyes and sick satisfaction running fresh through his veins, leaving the boy, Spike, lying in the bed that has witnessed more dark deeds then sin. They had become more frequent lately, these nightly visits from his uncle, Charles. Those nights when he prayed for sleep, not for relief of exhaustion, but so he could sleep through the staining actions that he preformed. But strangely this night offered him that retreat, which had unfortunately come later than needed, and as sleep over took his cold and trembling body he fell into dreaming.
He could hear scratching, scratching on the sickly white walls that surrounded him, and outlined the large room that he was in, his bare feet, chilled against the wet linoleum and