I said I haven't told you anything
I hold it all inside in vain
I think of you and I think of pain
Now I've told you everything
Never Said It by Papa Roach
A/N: I've seen Henry's name spelled like 'Townshend' and 'Townsend' so I went with 'Townshend' since it looks cooler.
He was always stuck in that room. 302.
The man had gotten it since it was supposedly the only room left in the apartment complex. There was a hole in the bathroom, it stunk like total shit and the tub was full of that stuff that was from the prison he once had to go to.
Laying on his bed the brunette stared up at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded and distant. There was a pistol in the trunk just outside his room. Along with a golf club, steel pipe, bullets, shotgun, holy candles, and all that other gorgeous crap.
Those possessions came from the world beyond the hole. A twisted and fucked up place at that.
Turning he glanced over to the window, sirens blaring and he guessed why. When he went into the other world a woman died, right in front of the apartment building. Numbers scratched into flesh.
Lifting a hand the twenty-eight year old male rubbed his forehead with a groan as he turned to the other side, brows furrowing as he closed his eyes. To be trapped in this room was insanity beckoning release. To see death and near-death was sickening.
A smell passed his nose.
The brunette moved to sit up and planted his feet on the ground to place his elbows on his knees, hands cupping his face to rub it.
Disgusting and putrid.
Letting out a sigh he stood and moved to enter the bathroom.
It was calling him, telling him he could change this if only he went inside. That nothing would change if he didn't.
Moving to crawl inside he didn't even notice the pair of eyes watching him with corrupt glee.
Henry Townshend was never going to be free...