mohdesu
The empty feeling was the worst thing. It ate at the corner of his mind wherever he looked, but hurt most when he laid eyes on the bare, wooden crib.
A sharp, frozen feeling sliced through his composure, and suddenly he couldn't stop the raw sob that tore itself from his throat after days of restraint.
It was too bright.
The fluorescent light overhead filled the dull room, causing the matted, decaying furniture to throw disfigured, violent looking shadows across the cracking, stained walls.