Test

The black rubber hands closed in on him. The white coats held him tight. No emotion behind the masks. They carried him, kicking, screaming, biting, scratching, to the metal door that radiated death. The door oepened, the smell of blood and death filled his nostrels.
The metal floor, stained with blood. There in the middle stood the cold, grey, metal table. White light poured down from the ceiling. Four white tiled walls, with spatters of blood. In one wall was a window, where they would watch.
The wite coats, they love to watch the hate and pain. He struggled in vain. They put electrodes in his brain. They laugh and enjoy his torment. He shudders as they close. No Escape. All Hope Lost.
He stopped struggling, it was all in vain, no chance now, no hope, all in vain, for pleasure, he drifts away……

Test

Splitcoms

Joined May 2008

  • Artwork Comments 3

Artwork Comments

  • barnsy
  • watty
  • sally-ann rawlinson
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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