TW: i can hear the spirits whisper through walls, the evil ones, seeking my soul to feed demons fueling my depression with toxic thoughts that blinds my conscience everyday i fall weaker as they come closer to feast on my broken soul
i fail to keep my sanity and fall for their evil trap i seek forgiveness for it wasn't me but the devil that possessed my senses luring me to follow them into the realm of the dead as i take a step further to let my warm blood flow against the cold floor
The simple truth is that authors like making people squirm. If this weren't the case, all novels would be filled completely with cute bunnies having birthday parties. — Brandon Sanderson, Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians
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