Seth is my cousin who came to stay with my parents and never left. He lives in a room in the basement. Occasionally, I go downstairs to bum cigarettes from him. He appears at the door, Metallica blasting in the background, sweaty from intense masturbation. “Pounding off,” he calls it.
Today, I go down to Seth’s room to get some cigarettes but there is no metal and he never comes to the door. I stand there for a few minutes before opening it. When I look inside I see Seth hanging from the ceiling by a belt. The word “Satan” is written on the wall behind him in what can only be sheep’s blood.
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