Chapter 4

Claude hated being alone. He hated waking up alone. He hated the nightmares and panic attacks that woke him up mid-sleep, left him terrified and unable to scream around the pride he held onto with bloody fingertips while in his coffin.

When he was alone during waking hours, he thought of his impending demise.

Or of Abernathy.

Neither were subjects that left him with any peace.

Claude was afraid to look at his fingers while he was alone. Once he could have sworn he saw smoke begin to rise off them. He’d thought that was it then. He was going…