He sleeps, peacefully. He looks like a child, his lips slightly parted as if to breathe in an innocent wish… or breathe out a morbid memory.
The other one, the gentle wicked one, starts the game.
And they will play on, each at a time, eluding all the horror lurking in the dark, refusing that demonic forces bite into their souls, denying the idea they may have created what they hunt.
One prank after another. As if they were teenagers again. As if they had lived together forever. As if the word "brotherhood" had been carved in stone for them.
