forced

he had been forced to do it.

not by those around him. not by the unseen, crushing pressure of defeat and alcoholism.

in the darkness it whimpered, for you could not realistically call it human anymore.

yet, it lived. one day, two. he began to try to feed it, but the cold meal just dribbled out of the gash in its esophagus.

finally, he cried. the one eye that remained stared up at him, dead yet alive, as the blows from his hatchet rained down on the ruined flesh.

the beast, that lived within him, was loose. god help them all.