Demons

Philip looked at his mother, eyes still filled with love and adoration as bruises began to show their dark purple and red faces to Philips pale freckled flesh, his mothers face contorted with that of malice and disgust at her son, whom she once treated as if a porcelain doll, now treated like the very scum of the earth.

And yet his eyes still saw the woman who once helped him heal his wounds, and told him she how much she cared.

His mind, clouded by Stockholm.