QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRANDUM.

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They told me I couldn't withstand the Sun, the Moon, or an incandescent lamp. So I told them that if I was to burn regardless, might as well burn by you.






















































I can't take it anymore. My flesh burns, sizzles, rots. My brain spits and spatters and nothing makes sense. My blood is boiling and I wish I could drain it. My eyes are fading. I can't see anymore. Is that the ceiling or my eyelids?

Let them turn the lights off.

I was never meant for the light.

Any light.

To you who fell from Darkness' GraceWhere stories live. Discover now