The stench of whiskey filled the tiny room as he drank once more. Damien sighed, clutching the bottle. It didn’t numb him anymore; nothing helped. He stared at the television set. Static crackled softly in the background, distorted voices swirling in the air.

He was just another fatass, his life dedicated to alcohol and football games. If only someone knew these disturbing thoughts that he had. No one knew, and he was partially glad for that.

It aches in every bone..

With a roar of frustration, he flung the bottle at the wall. The glass shattered on impact, shards flying everywhere. He got up from his chair and started to pace in the room. Damien ignored the tiny pinpricks of pain as his feet crunched on broken glass.

He couldn’t resist it anymore and growled loudly. The beast of a man slammed his head against the wall to stop himself. Why couldn’t anyone help him? They didn’t understand the beauty of it.. Primal, free, and enticing.

The urge to kill.