((I made some changes to his backstory, got a bit more in-depth...hm. WARNING: MIGHT BE SAD OR DISTURBING TO SOME PEOPLE.)) -Told in 1st person from Henry's perspective.- You know, there aren't always nights like this. Nights that are cold and cruel, where I ended up in the Emergency Room until the early morning hours getting glass pulled from my skin and stitches in the side of my head. Nights that had been previously filled with screaming and crying and too many drinks to the point where it drove him mad. While many nights ended this way, more often than not, they didn't. There was still threats, yells of anger and heated arguments, but more often, no one got hurt. This was the last time. This was the last time, I knew it he was leaving and never coming back to us. Like I cared though. He was a monster, as much as a monster I am. Whatever I did must've been pretty horrible to drain his sanity, but I don't remember a thing. My mother never told me. Neither did he. What I recall was just going into our basement as a little kid. I wanted to see all the things he collected, the artifacts from places I never had heard a word about. I guess I spent too much time down there, just being a child. I guess sickness is everywhere, because those trinkets sure made me sick. Though, why him? I should've been going off the deep end. I should've been smashing things and screaming. I don't understand. He was so nice...he loved me so much. He never acted like that until now. Was I really making him?
