Glen

Glen is a sociopath pushed to murder on the basis of religion. Once caught and up for sentencing, he meets a psychologist with a heartbreaking past who is very interested in his story. Faced with an increasing sensation of regret, Glen starts to experience the truth about the wicked deeds he's done...and it's Hell!**SNEAK PEEK**"I found myself in the halls of the institution. They were darkened and dirty, as though the building had been abandoned for years. The silence was unsettling. I started down the hallway, looking for someone to ask about what was going on. The squeak of rubber on the floor, as I moved, was loud and unpleasant in the unnatural silence. I called out for Dr. Cody, but there was no sound. I thought I could hear someone, but it sounded far away. I headed toward the voices, but the sound never seemed to get closer. I picked up the pace. I called out, again, but still heard nothing. I was starting to panic. As the world sped passed me, the walls began to change from the aged white to a reddish brown, either from rust or… The walls were crumbling and cracking in places, the only lights that worked flickered on and off. The whole situation was like a horror movie. And a bad one, at that. After an eternity, I finally reached a door. The room placard read “Meeting Hall 102”. The voices I had been hearing were coming from behind it. Even being closer, I couldn't hear what was being said. The door pulled, slightly, from my hand, opening a crack in the door. The voices were familiar, but hoarse and cracked. My heart was pounding; I had never felt such fear. I leaned down and looked in through the crack. They were all there, everyone I had executed, sitting in a support circle. All of them were like I had left them, but in different stages of decay. I could hear an industrial fan blowing, filling my nostrils with the stench of putrefaction. I gagged. Alice was sitting nearest to me. She turned toward the sound and pointed with two different index fingers, haphazardly attached to a mangled hand. Her jaw dropped open and released a shriek, like nails on tin. It drew the attention of the others who started making the same, nightmarish sound. I covered my ears, but they had already started to bleed. The door swung open. My mother, or at least I think it was, stood before me. She was a brown husk, bottomless empty sockets staring down at me. The phantom of a smile contorted a lipless grin into a snarl. She never said a word, just smiled. I started crawling away. The others began piling out of the door behind her, all of them reaching out for me. My mother’s bony claws wrapped around my throat and I screamed."

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