A/N: First story in what seems like forever. I haven't written since last summer... . Don't be harsh. This is also my first phanfic. Please be kind and R&R. A beta would also be nice.
Fire. Everywhere. The mob was close behind him. He could hear their shouts. More scars for his tortured body. He wouldn't mind the darkness of death if they handed it to him. It would mean release from this wretched place. He wouldn't even mind the torture.
They were soon upon him with fists and clubs and whatever they happened to grab. They were screaming in triumph. Perhaps horror. Didn't matter. He blacked out.
He was wet. And cold. So cold. Is this death?