Luther Artwright, A man of determination, guilt, and regret watched as his son Shouted "FUCK YOU!" at whatever was on the TV. He could see through the glassy walls of his confines that he had created that he was playing some sort of Video Game. Like the one he was held prisoner in. Like the ones that he used to make. He doesn't give a flying fuck that his son is cursing like a sailor. In fact, it kind of reminds him of himself in a strange blend of nostalgia and rage. He doesn't get to see him often though, so he must look at him thoroughly. Otherwise he might forget his face again. I know that he doesn't want to forget his face again. He hates it when that happens. More than when she hurts him. She hurts him badly. I love it when she hurts him. It hurts her when she hurts him. The video game looked very complicated. He had been analyzing it for the past half an hour, and couldn't figure any of it out. It looked extremely realistic for a video game to him but at the same time he hasn't seen a video game in 12 years and he knows that.
He remembers when he had made a video game, or helped at least. He designed a character, Tails the Fox. He was Sonic the Hedgehogs little sidekick and best buddy. They laughed, played, and saved the world from the evil dr. Eggman together. They had a dynamic that he had not felt in his own life for quite some time. He kew that when the dead tree etched onto the thin, degraded bark that his life would never be the fucking same again. And he was right. About a week after Tails made his first appearance in the labyrinth of pixelated 1s and 0s of Sonic the Hedgehog 2 the first tape came in the mail. It had no address, but contained a piece of a contorted jigsaw that long lay dormant in his head. He was sorry, I couldn't lie to you if I wanted to. He loved her too. More than anyone in his world. Sure their feelings were complicated but it could have worked out. But it didn't. The posters dwindled in numbers, like deer that were over hunted. Despite all the hunting though, her body was never found. In the summer of 1963 Luther murdered one of the only people that was still important to him in a petty bar fight and no one, not even her family or her soon to be married girlfriend found that dumb ass's body because of him.
The screen that Luther was seeing started to fade away as the scenery turned back to the saturated red, blue, and yellow hues of the chemical plant zone. She clawed up to him from behind in her human form and started groping the fur on his chest and placing her chest on the back of his head. I believe this would have made the average human being erotic. Sex is supposed to be pleasurable and induce feelings of trust and comfort. Funny how Satan loves to weaponize the very things that God creates with sin. Luther screamed in agony as she started to tug on his skin eventually making it bleed profusely.
