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Angsty Daddy-Issues.Justin's eyes twinkled with the pure lust of slaughtering-hour.
His father and him never truly got along. After all, you kill a boy's mother in front of him and the child is bound to have some angsty daddy-issues.
"So, what brings you back to my humble abode`, father?" Justin asked with a grimace on his face, and his nostrils flaring immensely.
"Please, just let me go! I will never return again!" The man pleaded, his brow drenched in the stench of regret.
"Oh, I know you won't." Justin roared back, and his mouth twisted and contorted into a perverse smile.
"Please, son! I beg of you!"
"You flatter me..." Justin gripped the axe in his fingers so tight it was quite possible his hateful sweat would bond his flesh and the iron together.
"But, please..." Justin began, and approached the broken soul of a father.
"Save your breath, you'll be needing it."
Concept Lover.You know the feeling,
when you're wishing for an unreachable person;
an unreal concept lover,
and deep down in the very back of your throat you KNOW they don't exist and never will...
So you just grab what you can get, and just keep hoping.
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
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