I don't own Nothing, he belongs to Poppy Z . Brite .
Nothing sat in the back of the van, waiting for the others to come back. His father's coat was hung around his shoulders, ready to slip off at any given time.
The air in the van was cold and almost depressing. Nothing dragged his nails across the soft flesh of his wrist. Pain was better than crying, it always was.
The others had been gone for a long time now.
He let his thoughts drift toward his father. Where was he now? Was he in heaven? Was he in Hell? Or was he reincarnated?
And what of Christian?
Nothing slumped back on mattress. Thinking was depressing.
He then thought of a girl they had recently killed, her blood had tasted sweet. Before they left her house, Nothing had taken many of her books, including her diary. Nothing had taken a liking to reading girl's diaries. They were good enough to be real books.
The van's doors slammed shut, the others had come back. Now Nothing could stop thinking.
Nothing sat in the back of the van, waiting for the others to come back. His father's coat was hung around his shoulders, ready to slip off at any given time.
The air in the van was cold and almost depressing. Nothing dragged his nails across the soft flesh of his wrist. Pain was better than crying, it always was.
The others had been gone for a long time now.
He let his thoughts drift toward his father. Where was he now? Was he in heaven? Was he in Hell? Or was he reincarnated?
And what of Christian?
Nothing slumped back on mattress. Thinking was depressing.
He then thought of a girl they had recently killed, her blood had tasted sweet. Before they left her house, Nothing had taken many of her books, including her diary. Nothing had taken a liking to reading girl's diaries. They were good enough to be real books.
The van's doors slammed shut, the others had come back. Now Nothing could stop thinking.