"You act like you’re already dead."
wasn’t he ?
they day they converged; four or five of them, too many to fight off, try as he might. the chill of the table was still fresh in his memory. like those victims he so tortured, he was forced still, restrained. for years, he had thought scalpels and needles would be nothing to skin that lie charred, nerves dead from flames’ abuse. how wrong he was. gag kept screams from echoing through cold, unforgiving room as his skin was sliced away, as organs were removed, no sedatives given. every iota of his self was on fire, and at some point ; it became bliss. mind was hazy, and he saw but starlight, pain receding to a dull background. after that ? after that, emotions were rendered to a select few. outlook on life, on those who ought wrong him, only darkened. perhaps he was too cold, too calculating for some ; for this little girl, it seemed so. cruel, cynical – a dead man walking.
‘ run back to your father.
this place isn’t for children.’
one last kindness afforded to the clan of Castellanos.
