Julian's Father

Julian stood rigidly in the dark, suffocating hallway, his broad chest heaving as he dragged in ragged, heavy breaths. A deep, impenetrable gloom completely shadowed his dangerously pale, handsome face. Fresh blood trickled steadily from his torn knuckles, pattering against the filthy concrete floor in a gruesome drip. Appalled by the horrifying sight, Celia peeked out cautiously from the doorway.