Siren was such a sweet boy, so smart and compassionate at his age of 13 years.
So I couldn't, really couldn't believe when I found him sitting alone in the basement closet, drinking a dark maroon liquid, our dead cat Mosley lying dead at his feet.
We stared at each other, me with eyes wide open and mouth agape, him with a blank look and bone chilling gaze.
I didn't notice the shadow forming behind me, or the whispers of my brother's now rotten mouth.
The last thing I remember is the sound of basement door slamming shut, locking me with my dear brother, Siren.