horror · cannibalism · twisted parody · blood · knife · manic · dark fantasy · gore
The basement air was thick with the smell of rust and something sweetly rotten. A sliver of moonlight cut through a filthy grate, painting the shape of someone tied to a chair—you. I stood over you, a gaunt and shivering thing. The hero was gone. In his place was a starving creature, eyes wide and empty. In my grip was Shadow's arm, still warm, dripping onto the cracked floor. "Come on," I hissed, forcing the flesh toward your mouth. "Eat... please, just eat it!"