Chapter 12 - The Cold Cell
Marcus Thorne huddled in the corner of solitary confinement at the county jail.
He had been denied bail for first-degree murder and assaulting a police officer.
But it wasn't the looming prison sentence that was driving Marcus completely insane.
It was the cold.
Even though it was the middle of summer, his concrete cell was freezing, his breath forming thick white clouds in the air.
He pounded on the metal door, screaming for the guards to turn up the heat, but they only laughed and told him he was having withdrawal hallucinations.
Tonight, the darkness in the cell felt incredibly heavy.
The fluorescent bulb on the ceiling began to flicker violently, emitting a harsh, electric buzzing sound.
Marcus curled into a tight ball, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably as he sensed them.
From the darkest corners of the cell, thick black smoke began to seep through the concrete cracks.
Tall, spindly figures with unnaturally long limbs and no faces slowly stepped into the dim light.
"No... Thomas killed you! Stay away from me!" Marcus screamed in sheer terror, clawing frantically at the reinforced door.
But the faceless shadows did not answer.
They were no longer hunting Thomas.
They were hunting the man who had set this entire bloody chain of events into motion.
A hand made of freezing black smoke reached out, wrapping its long fingers around Marcus's throat.
He opened his mouth to scream, but a torrent of dark, suffocating fog forced its way down his lungs.
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The next morning, a guard found Marcus Thorne dead on the floor.
His face was contorted in absolute horror, his eyes wide open, and his flesh was as cold as if he had been locked in a meat freezer for years.
