Johanna's head lay peacefully on the white pillow.
Her delicate features were haloed by the soft glow of a dim lamp.
Her slender hand twitched from time to time in an unconscious spasm — a bodily memory of the assault.
And there, crouched beside her... themonster.
He stared at her with a feverish, feral intensity, like a child at a glass window he couldn't break.
His fingers — black-nailed and clawed — gently brushed Johanna's cheek.
His gaze carried a seething hatred, but underneath it all… there was only jealousy.
The kind that eats away at you from within until nothing remains but a black void.
A dry laugh scraped from his throat, immediately choked by a hitch of emotion.
His gaze clouded, turned inward. Goethe seemed to wrestle with himself, his inner demon clawing back his lost humanity.
