Chapter 3: So so so sorry! I went to two camps, my little sister had intense surgery, and I've had family in town since I last updated. Just haven't had time to write. :P
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Theme 3: Dark

He couldn't see.
He couldn't think.
He couldn't even breathe.

All around him, it was dark. Not just dark, but horribly dark. It was so potent that it was almost a blinding darkness. If such a thing makes sense.

He was alone. The only thing he could hear in this black penitentiary was the sound of his own breaths, forcing themselves in and out, in and out of his lungs in. They clung to the air; as if afraid they would die if they went quiet. The darkness was chocking him, strangling him of his very life.

Not that some he knew wouldn't be glad he was dead. In fact, an entire group of people where wondering whether or not they should just abandon this war and focus on killing him, seeping the life out of his veins.

Not that he didn't deserve to die. He had done awful things, horrible things. The life of so many where on his pale hands.

Not that he didn't want to die, sometimes. To just end this all himself, and go to the Hell that awaited him.

But that was too easy. It wasn't what others expected of him. They expected him to be cold, so he was cold. They expected him to be brutal, so he was brutal. They expected him to be cunning, so he treated life like a game of Chess he had enjoyed as a child.

He hated the lot of them. The stupid worms that seemed to want nothing more than to end him

Who could he trust? No one. Who could he tell his fears to? No one.

He was cold, cold as snow.

And he couldn't escape this darkness.

So when people with Capital accents and looks entered his room, he wasn't surprised. He wasn't scared. He barely even loathed them. He just sat there and let them come toward him.
After all, what was a leader without his servants?