“A vein throbs to the left of his forehead. It pulsates, mirroring the violence in the room.”

“A vein throbs to the left of his forehead. It pulsates, mirroring the violence in the room.”

“The dead are the past and we cannot escape the past. Without the past there will be no future.”

“A vein throbs to the left of his forehead. It pulsates, mirroring the violence in the room.”

“To these children, the door William has just come through is a portal. Being shoved through it means a trip to hell where only demons come to visit and the man before them fits that description; his deep, hard eyes frame his long, winding scar and behind him, flames rise as the smell of smoke and charring meat waft into the room.”