Seventeen year old Wesley Millar never had a normal life. This is no exception. To start off a teenage boy named Alex has made it his personal duty to warn Wes's friends of the danger that is to come. The danger that Wes himself will cause. Then, some mysterious guests come along and seem to know more about the situation than Wes himself does.
Bad things start happening and Wes becomes uncontrollable as The Darkness finds his way into every single crevice in Wes's mind. When the situation be
There once was a boy. Like all boys, this boy had a father. LIke some boys, this boy had a brother. He was perfectly ordinary- just like most boys. he had a perfectly normal life. But things change.
Things chaned the day the oy turned twelve, His brother was his by a car. His brother died shortly thereafter- though the body was never returned. A few months later, the boy started seeing things. Awful things. So his parents locked him away in his room, the one he and his brother had once shared, like he was some sort of fairytale character.
His room was in their basement- fitted with a small bathroom and sink- so his parents locked the door and unlocked it only to feed him. they began to slowly give him less food, until one day, they stopped altogether.
But that day came four years later. Four years later, and the by hadn't had any companionship except for his parents, who barely spoke with him at all.
They unlocked the door one night, expecting to fin dhim asleep on his bed... which he wasn't.
The pale teen was sitting in a corner, curled up with hsi arms around his legs, resting his head on his knees. He looked up to see his parents, and they soon realized that the tears that were steaming down his face were not normal tears. They were red- and made of blood. He was sobbbing. "Can you hear them Mom?" he asked, voice quavering.
His mother's brow creased with concern. "Hear who?"
He looked up at them both, his strangely colored eyes wild with fear, small streams of redtears on his face. "The voices," he whispered. His mother stoood pertrified, eyes glazed over- as if she weren;t breathing anymore. "Mom?" he choked out.
The woman that was once his mother fell to the ground perfectly, not a hair out of place, nor a mark on her skin, only a knife protruding from her now blood-stained back. The boy went to his knees, crawling over to his mother. He checked her pulese-nothing."Mom?" he croaked out again. He looked up at his father- the man he had once trusted- but now whose eyes were black as coal. "Dad?" he asked
He looked up at his father- the man he had once trusted- but now whose eyes were black as coal. "Dad?" he asked, "Dad, help me," he begged his father. "Dad?" he asked again, not getting through to his father. The boy's hands were warm with his mother's blood.
He sat frozen in horror as he wastched his father run upstairs, slamming the basement door and another one, before hearing the car start, the sound fading as his father drive off. He heard sirens just seconds later.
And so it came to pass that Wesley Millar, the tortured twelve year old boy that had lost his brother, the boy who had been forced to grow up mush too fast, lost both his parents in one fell swoop.
And lost his mind as well.