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Kindle Notes & Highlights
As Geraldine gestured for Isaac to enter the playground, a sinister cackle escaped her. The old woman’s laugh was the last thing Isaac heard as the black, steel gate locked behind him.
The conditioning that resulted from an endless cycle of abuse was a profound manipulator.
She was a fattened parasite gorging on horror. Like a cigarette after sex, Geraldine had fallen in love.
The children shouldn’t find joy in the playground; they should find their destruction.
The smell of the fresh death crept up his nostrils while chunks of his sibling slid off him in every direction.
In life, Isaac and Bobby went together like oil and water, but in death, that wouldn’t matter. As the vicious ocean of scorching fluid destroyed the little that remained of their tissues, the opinions and differences they held in life were suddenly of little consequence.
He wanted attention, but not that way. He wanted to be held, but not that way. He wanted to be loved, but not that way. Geraldine had turned him into the saddest kind of damaged goods. The kind that’s too fucked-up to realize it. When horror isn’t quite horror anymore, it’s just normal. And when awful isn’t quite awful anymore, it’s just life.
