The Chasm of Hate
As his family feasted on his flesh, he looked at the sapphire stone, admiring its beauty under the Blood moon.
The mixture of red and blue always makes a beautiful purple sight.
He was losing blood and flesh.
Truth be told, it was not even the pain in his physical body that hurt him the most.
No! It wasn't. After all, he had been a slave all his life and had gone through the worst torture imaginable.
At this point, physical pain was just another daily occurrence.
What really hurt him was the emotional torture.
It was like ten ropes had been tied around his heart and connected to horses, ordered to rip it to pieces as they ran in different directions to the ends of the earth.
Every bite of his flesh was an extra hole in his heart.
Such pain was as deep as the ocean but steady as a mountain.