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Evan found himself sitting at a wide pink table. Knife in hand, he stared at the chunks of raw rabbit meat.
The rack behind him, nailed into the blood red walls hung a pair of scissors, a dead cottontail, and a bone saw.
The pretty vase of flowers looked so out of place among the stench of gore
The metallic smell of the room was almost overbearing, despite the passing thoughts he’s been suppressing his entire life, he wanted to vomit at the sight and smells of blood, it was too much. Maybe he was never truly homicidal.
But that voice in the back of his head, despite it being distorted and layered with a much deeper voice, it sounded an awful lot like him.
It wouldn’t stop growling “dig in”. Each time he brushed it away, it would get louder.
Feed the Habit. Feed the Habit. Feed the Habit.
The pink and red flowers began to decay as his control started to give way, and the urge to devour what was in front him became stronger.
One last thought crossed his mind.
Where is Regan?