Nick knows it is inevitable, he knows that he can't hold it off forever. But he can try.
He stands steady, sturdy, in the pool of maroon he knows so well, the chains clasped across his wrists taut, pulling him into the muck, lower and deeper. Slower and weaker. It's always been stronger than him. He strains against the fetters but his feet are always sinking, his footing never true.
The black-red ichor clings to him, rooting itself in his lies and choices. Smiles and voices. The chains wrench a leg down, another. It takes everything he has to simply kneel in it, his legs are being buried as his arms are drawn below.
As they descend he is forced to look below him, his face inches from the surface of the pool. Through the thick red he can see the smiling face, the empty eyes, the beast, the demon, the monster. Nick knows it is inevitable, he knows he can't hold it off forever. But he can try.
YOU ARE READING
Nick Torvorus
FantasyA couple works around my D&D character Nick Torvorus. Nick has contradictions and rationalizations, complexities and complexes, but mostly he is known as a serial killer. I don't have the whole story written down, just a few fragments really but hop...
