I let the box fall from my hands unceremoniously to the couch following the direction of putting all weapons there. My head hangs low as what little pride I’d had or put into the project was deeply wounded (Why can I never do right, am I really that different than other Kindred) my mind clouds in a dark depression and internal monolog of harm and destruction. Perhaps tonight’s violence will quill the thirst my Beast longs for. Perhaps I’d be so lucky as to be thrown in the cage as dessert and finished off.
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