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He could just barely see his own reflection.Lucian just then saw that he looked dirty.Bloodied.Unkempt.Lucian smiled. Expecting something from the white entity.He could barely recognize the hand that was limply dangling from his side. Not broken, but looking worse by the minute. He wanted to know why he was in this and other situations.What could he offer to the countless aliens and those times that he was exposed to harm?He was scared shitless countless times and for what. He just did not know. Why him? What was so important about his life? Until just months ago, by his memory, he was an average Joe. To some he was that invisible man that just spent on living from one day to the other.Not knowing he was doing it, Lucian focused his gaze on the white figure, on the person in front of him. His white mask reflecting his own stare. Lucian thought he could see the monster grimacing in anger, but soon left forgotten as an idle illusion.A white gloved hand distracted him, he followed its. I hit it hard and bounced back, half turning only to meet his open hand again, slapping me right across the face.I spun around and hit the wall once more, then fell sideways onto the floor."You filthy slut! Is this how you act when you're alone! Is this the kind of daughter I've raised!? Are you nothing more than a filthy little tramp!?"I groaned, tasting blood in my mouth as I tried I pushed myself to my knees. Then I screamed again as he grabbed a handful of hair and dragged me roughly to my feet. he shoved me back against the wall, his face red and eyes bulging."You whore!" he screamed into my face."I'm not a whore, daddy!" I sobbed."You think I don't know a whore when I see one!? Laying there with your filthy legs apart and abusing yourself with a hairbrush!!?"He slapped my face, then backhanded it the other direction, then slapped it again. I saw stars as my head whipped from side to side."You are a worthless whore!!" Then how come you got a hard-on!?" I sobbed.Well, of course I.
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Lena was too confusing a subject, so he pushed it to the back of his head, deep into the dark corners where the thought of Malcolm Reed and his release from prison loomed at him. Kit felt his heart pick up speed at the thought of Malc, but he wasn’t sure if it was fear he was experiencing. There was definitely fear there – there were too many scary memories in Kit’s head not to feel fear – but there was a certain amount of adrenaline too. It was the same as that feeling he’d had when he was eleven and -being taller than most of the kids his age – had been the only one tall enough to go on the Death Drill ride at the theme park. Paulie Fitzpatrick had dared him to go on. Kit had been so cocky until the last moment, when the bottom had dropped from his stomach and he felt cold fear creep under his skin, but it was too late, he had to go through with it, adrenaline, fear, excitement, sickness…he wasn’t sure what he felt, but he knew he was never going back on that ride again. That was.

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