ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝙇𝙐𝙉𝘼𝙏𝙄𝘾
❝ we all go a little mad
sometimes! ❞
━━ Sylvester Summers was a serial killer when was alive. He killed people without remorse or mercy, annd he had no sympathy for other humans. But now he's dead and when...
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. . . written by llovetodiee
✦ ━ • • ( extended summary )
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─── ✧ Sylvester Summers was a psychotic serial killer. He enjoyed killing, and felt no remorse for the actions he caused.
He enjoyed the way the life left his victims eyes. He enjoyed when their crimson red blood seeped out of them. He enjoyed the thrill he felt, when killing.
It was the only feeling he truly had, because either then that, Sylvester felt nothing at all. He was an empty, hollow being. Murder made him feel something. The rush of adrenaline, was the thrill he enjoyed.
But as time went on, the rush of adrenaline he always felt, began to die down and fade away. So, Sylvester tried creative ways in killing, but it still wasn't working.
And soon enough, he got sloppy. Then finally, he was caught and shot down. Sylvester had died in his very own home. And as the years past, that house was soon taken away from his father, Keith.
Sylvester was alone now. But he was still just as desperate to have that feeling again. The feeling he got, when he murdered. He needed it. He craved it.
It was then, that he met, 𝙉𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝘽𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨. The young teenage boy, who moved into Sylvester's home, with his mother, Norma. And together, those two ran the motel, Sylvester's father use to run.
Sylvester started to feel...things. Things that he started to crave. Things he started to obsess over. He needed Norman, to feel the way he did.
