his face sunk and his eyes welled up like puddles in a rainstorm. a muddy brown. he leaned his back to the wall and slide to the floor. he pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face between them. weeping. he stood and walked to the window, staring down at the street. he drew the shades. when they found him he still had the note in his hand.
I move in slow motion.
her fingers writhed like hungry maggots at the thought. should I?
one eye was bigger than the other and skewed upward on his face. his mouth jutted from his cheek to chin and his lips looked like the muscle broke free and curled back over his skin. I could see the twisted bone coursing under his flesh. he was a gaunt creature. his neck spiraled downward to a small, thin lump you could call shoulders. he had two massive hooks forced through the meat of his chest, they were chained to anchors at his feet. his chest was free of blood except four thin trails running down toward his hips. the scarring over his freakish, long arms was a bloody mess. they hung at his sides like burdens of weight he could hardly stand to bear. his pelvis was a mutilated, torn mass that looked to be of a pulpy consistency. I could see the terrible injury throbbing and pulsing. chunks of meat and goo strung from his groin to his thighs. his legs extended from his frail hips. they twisted, bent, and snapped inhumanly all the way to his feet. his toes grew from his gouged feet into the earth beneath. they rooted there and I watched them burrow through the ground like worms. he looked so sad.