Twrt

"There was a dank little room in the basement of the Victorian, a room with a single, dim light bulb that looked as if it had been sucking up the darkness for years. It was the room where the old man sat, staring at the void, his face ashen. He had been there for days, for weeks. He had sat in that room and never moved, eating nothing but the occasional drop of water from the tap. He spoke softly, in a voice that seemed somehow to have been hollowed out."