Alice--Lynn

Bare feet dragging on the wood floor, Stewart staggered his way to the kitchen in Gyth's home with steps he didn't want to take. His hearts' throbbing existence echoed a painful ache through his chest with a burning that radiated up his throat. The dried tears were cold against the skin under the puffy red sockets that were Stewart's emotionless eyes, and his stomach still twisted with a sickness under his bloody clothes. Which sticky stains belonged to his son or the victim he and Benjamin had been torturing earlier that night? Stewart didn't have a care to give about such minor details as his heavy body stumbled its way to do something other than grieving with no foreseeable end nearby. Without turning on the overhead light, the modernized kitchen's meticulously clean surfaces still reflected the small amount of light coming through in the bleakness as shaved slivers of the morning were starting to shine through the small gaps of the curtains. That was all Stewart knew about what