“Oh, he made it,” Andrew said. “That’s interesting.” He pressed two fingers to Neil’s throat, checking his pulse. When Neil tried to bat him away, Andrew caught his wrist with his free hand. His smile was small and fierce as he leaned forward into Neil’s space.
“Remember this feeling. This is the moment you stop being the rabbit.”
we are the splashing of sticky red shuddering in the darkness. we are the voices that call from the roots of swaying trees. we are the chill wind in your bones. we are the cold fingers crawling underneath your skin.
can you hear us now?
we are v e n g e a n c e. we are spite. we do not forgive. and we never, ever forget.