#daddy'shome

A dark, singular glee plays on his grin. He is back in the belly of the house, breathing in the dusty air that pervades the basement, and that alone chases away the persistent weight on his shoulders. It's become a sort of morbidly therapeutic habit for him, a cathartic event to help cope with the loneliness he finds himself stuck in. 

But as Larry wanders further into the dark, he feels--suffocated by the presence of an unseen other. Specifically, by the hatred that is directed towards him. He is alone, but not really, not in this house. His mismatched gaze follows the contour of shrouded outlines to no avail. Elevated heart rate, the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and he knows