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Summary
It was a monster, not a man.
Mike trembled as he crawled away from the approaching figure, one long, claw-like hand with talon-like nails flexing and unflexing. “Who are you?” He demanded, sounding stronger than he felt, “What the fuck do you want?!”
The monster grinned; his smile was like a ray of darkness and evil. Pure evil. Mike’s back hit the wall, the boy scrambling for somewhere else to flee to, but he was cornered like a prey animal.
The monster bent over and towered over him. It pointed one of its long fingers, its yellow-brown nails inches from Mike's face, "I want you." The monster said, its voice a low, crackly grumble. Mike trembled like a leaf; his wobbling elbows could barely hold him up. Nobody was coming to save him. Nobody even knew where he was.
One of the grotesque fingers slithered under Mike's chin, forcing his face forward, and Mike couldn't swallow the whimper, his stomach rolling and flipping. Eyes meeting, the monster grinned widely and toothily. Rotten breath fanned from brown teeth, and it said, “Out of my way.”
Series
- Part 18 of Mike Wheeler suffering
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Bookmark Notes:
2
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Bookmark Notes:
Minke angst
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