There’s this thing that lurks inside of us—a darkness black as pitch—and though it stays in hiding, we’re truly afraid of it. By day it waits in slumber, by night it’s a mare of a beast, and when we are alone, the monster begins its feast. He lives in every human, too terrible to behold—the twisted lurking serpent—turns everything to cold. Bones will shake and tremble, when the beast has come to play; blood will freeze and bubble, in a terror-ridden way. That monster is the darkness, that lurks in the human heart, and without careful choices, it will rip your heart apart.