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These men were here for pain.
Seconds ticked past as I watched.
The longer I witnessed their monstrosity, the less control I had over my sanity.
Their thrusts scrambled my mind.
Their lust seeped through me like a disease.
The loneliness of my childhood twisted into a toxic thing.
I didn’t know if it was the silence down here. The burial down here. The vacuum of everything I thought I knew and all the hauntings of memories I daren’t recall, but I’d never felt so…adrift. So lost. So fucking confused.
I’d been alone for so long.
But now I’d found men who shared my sins.
My bare feet shifted to join in.
I grew hard.
My heart pumped for the first time in hours.
I wanted Ily.
I wanted her on her back.
I wanted her heat, her fight, her kiss.
Fuck, that goddamn kiss.
I wanted to lick her again, taste her again.
I needed her to yank me back from this abyss.
This timeless, endless abyss where I became nothing more than death.
My hands balled.
The axe grew heavy.
I backed deeper into the shadows as my instincts roared into power.
As one Master came with a snarl and another moved to take his place, I fell.
Deeper into darkness.
Harder into sickness.
I no longer knew who I was.
Boy or man. Saint or sinner. Good or bad.
Watching these men…seeing myself in them…it enraged me, corrupted me, gutted me, redeemed me.
Why was I fighting it?
Why exist in such suffering?
