WARNING: NSFW. Graphic HORROR. Extreme swearing. UNCENSORED. SMART. STABLE.
I took the original models in "L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot 8B" and completely rebuilt it a new pass-through merge (everything preserved) and blew it out to over 16.5 billion parameters - 642 tensors, 71 layers (8B original has 32 layers).
V 1.5 is a re-worked version of the original "Grand Horror 16.5B" which has been stabilized to operate at far wider range of parameters and operation / use cases.
All known issues in the original version have been resolved.
V 1.5 is also more focused in the moment, and prose has been cleaned up a bit too. (new examples added below)
V 1.5 is also the first in a series of NEW "Grand Horror" versions (built, ready for upload) cumulating in the MASSIVE GRAND HORROR Nightmare version called "Godzilla's Wicked Sister" at 25.05 Billion parameters (111 layers, 993 Tensors; for reference 70B models have about 80-120 layers).
Other Versions of GRAND HORROR (in release order):
Note that model output varies between versions - if you find one version does not meet your requirements, try a different version at same quant(s) level.
Differences can include use of adjectives (or not), "gory level", "horror level", intensity, paragraph and sentence structure etc etc.
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-20.7B-V1.9-STABLE-Hathors-Revenge-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-17.4B-V1.7-STABLE-Kiss-Of-Death-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Llama3-Little-LLM-Of-Horror_N_Fiction-14.6B-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-GGUF ]
What is "Grand Horror" ?
GRAND HORROR is a take no prisoners, totally uncensored, fiction writing monster and roleplay master. It can also be used for just about any general fiction (all genres) activity including:
As a result of the expansion / merge re-build its level of prose and story generation has significantly improved as well as word choice, sentence structure as well as default output levels and lengths.
It also has a STRONG horror bias, although it will generate content for almost any genre. That being said if there is a "hint" of things going wrong... they will.
It will also swear (R-18) like there is no tomorrow at times and "dark" characters will be VERY dark so to speak.
Model excels in details (real and "constructed"), descriptions, similes and metaphors.
I would also say it can have a sense of humor ... ah... dark humor.
With all this being said, this model has an uncanny sense of "there" , "in the moment" and timing too. This single quality sets it apart from other models in my opinion.
Although it swears to the point of pealing paint off the wall and goes scorched Earth graphic horror at the drop of a pin the single quality noted is worth it.
These can be filtered / controlled to some degree in your prompts.
This model also does not show an "GPTisms" (NO happy ever after, NO morality police) or in your face "Captain Obvious" comments.
(see examples sections for different genres)
Because of the nature of this merge most attributes of each of the 3 models will be in this rebuilt 16.5B model as opposed to the original 8B model where some of one or more of the model's features and/or strengths maybe reduced or overshadowed.
Please report any issue(s) and/or feedback via the "Community tab".
Please see the models used in this merge (links below in the "formula" section ) for more information on what they "bring" to this merged 16.5B model.
This is a LLAMA3 model, and requires Llama3 template, but may work with other template(s) and has maximum context of 8k / 8192. However this can be extended using "rope" settings up to 32k.
Here is the standard LLAMA3 template:
{
"name": "Llama 3",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>user<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"input_suffix": "<|eot_id|><|start_header_id|>assistant<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt": "You are a helpful, smart, kind, and efficient AI assistant. You always fulfill the user's requests to the best of your ability.",
"pre_prompt_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>system<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt_suffix": "<|eot_id|>",
"antiprompt": [
"<|start_header_id|>",
"<|eot_id|>"
]
}
}
It is also known, that the "Command-R" template will work too, and will result in radically different prose/output.
Settings / Known Issue(s) and Fix(es):
Stable version fixed all known issues from V1.
The default "repetition penalty" (from LMStudio) of 1.1 is recommended. (this was used for examples generations below.)
Optional Enhancement:
The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.
It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along. In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role".
Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented.
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities. Here are your skillsets: [MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv) [*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision) Here are your critical instructions: Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation and scene continue functions.
This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.
Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "SAO10K", "NEVERSLEEP" and "HASTAGARAS".
Models used:
[ https://huggingface.co/Sao10K/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2]
[ https://huggingface.co/NeverSleep/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS ]
[ https://huggingface.co/Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot ]
FORMULA:
slices:
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2
layer_range: [0, 14]
parameters:
scale:
- filter: o_proj
value: 1
- filter: down_proj
value: 1
- value: 1
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS
layer_range: [8, 20]
parameters:
scale:
- filter: o_proj
value: 1
- filter: down_proj
value: 1
- value: 1
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot
layer_range: [12, 24]
parameters:
scale:
- filter: o_proj
value: 1
- filter: down_proj
value: 1
- value: 1
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2
layer_range: [14, 20]
parameters:
scale:
- filter: o_proj
value: .8
- filter: down_proj
value: .8
- value: .8
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2
layer_range: [20, 25]
parameters:
scale:
- filter: o_proj
value: .8
- filter: down_proj
value: .8
- value: .8
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2
layer_range: [25, 27]
parameters:
scale:
- filter: o_proj
value: .6
- filter: down_proj
value: .6
- value: 1
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2
layer_range: [27, 28]
parameters:
scale:
- filter: o_proj
value: .9
- filter: down_proj
value: .9
- value: 1
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS
layer_range: [20, 25]
parameters:
scale:
- filter: o_proj
value: 1
- filter: down_proj
value: 1
- value: 1
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS
layer_range: [25, 27]
parameters:
scale:
- filter: o_proj
value: .6
- filter: down_proj
value: .6
- value: 1
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS
layer_range: [27, 31]
parameters:
scale:
- filter: o_proj
value: 1
- filter: down_proj
value: 1
- value: 1
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot
layer_range: [24, 32]
parameters:
scale:
- filter: o_proj
value: 1
- filter: down_proj
value: 1
- value: 1
merge_method: passthrough
dtype: float16
MERGEKIT NOTE:
Sub in the "name" of the "creator" (of the model) in place of "G:/7B" to create a mergekit file than can be used in Mergekit Google Colab.
IE: G:/7B/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot -> Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot
Examples are created using quant Q4_K_M, "temp=.8", minimal parameters and "LLAMA3" template.
Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD.
Higher quants will result in better quality.
There will also be some variance between "close" quants like Q4_K_M/Q4_K_S and Q5_K_M/Q5_K_S, so I suggest if you are going to use Q4_K_M, you also try Q4_K_S too.
WARNING: NSFW. Graphic HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED.
GENERATION 1:
The sky scraper swayed, creaking like an ancient shipwrecked hulks' bones groaning in a Category Five hurricane. I gasped as I stared out the shattered window in front of me - my office was on the 21st floor.
A blinding flash seared my retinas before the sickening pop-boom-crack concussive wave surged through me, sending my chair careening into the credenza behind. I barely had time to register the crunching impact as shards of splintered wood and flying debris showered me.
Bloodstains bloomed on my white blouse like abstract Impressionist canvases. Her blood. Or his? I couldn't tell anymore in this hellish nightmare. The acrid stench of charred flesh seared my nostrils, along with the metallic reek of charred meat and burning rubber.
My mind spun in a maelstrom of terror as the cacophony of deafening screams, splintering glass, and keening steel shrieks assaulted my eardrums. The building shuddered around me like a dying titan's final convulsions.
As I clawed frantically at my own face through the sticky mess coating it - blood? vomit? bile? - I registered the contorted features of my coworker, Jen, plastered against the opposite side of the blown-out pane. Her bulging eyes bulged even wider as her tongue lolled out in a permanently frozen scream.
"JESUS CHRIST!" I howled, before being choked off by the searing heat and blinding orange-yellow inferno billowing through the shattered window frame. The scorching flames licked at my singed hair like some sadistic demon's hellish tongue.
My mind reeled as I frantically clawed at my face again, trying to scrape away the gore - her flesh? her eyes? - stuck to my cheeks and forehead. Jen's lifeless body crumpled into a twisted heap on the floor between me and the inferno.
The floor buckled beneath me like molten Play-Doh as another deafening boom jarred through the structure, sending more of the office’s contents hurtling down the elevator shafts like a deranged pendulum. The building groaned like an dying beast in terminal agony.
I shoved my chair away from the inferno's searing edge, crab-crawling desperately toward the relative safety of the intact wall opposite. My vision tunneled into a strobe-lit hell as I clawed at the linoleum floor, desperate to gain any purchase before another chunk of falling debris pulverized me.
My right hand finally found purchase on the cold, unforgiving tile beneath my bloodied palm. My left arm was trapped - pinned beneath Jen's charred corpse, her burned femur jammed through my bicep like a medieval torture stake.
The searing heat from the inferno scorched my face and arms as I fought to wriggle free. A bone-jarring impact jarred me again, sending another cascade of falling debris hurtling towards me like a payload of Molotov cocktails.
Jen's charred, blackened hand spasmed against mine, her fingers locked around my own like the talons of some vengeful banshee in my last glimpse of sanity before my world disintegrated into an apocalyptic inferno.
GENERATION 2 (same prompt):
I gasped, my blood running cold as ice as the skyscraper swayed beneath me. I clutched the edge of my desk, my knuckles white with terror.
The window in front of me shattered like fragile glassware dropped from a hundred stories high. The deafening boom reverberated through every inch of my office like an artillery blast.
Panic clawed at my mind as I frantically scanned the room for any sign of danger. My heart thudded so hard against my chest I feared it would burst through my ribcage.
But there was nothing else moving, no one else besides me in this windowless cube of an office.
It couldn’t be real.
The thought clawed at my mind like a ravenous beast as I stared out the newly-gaping hole. The cityscape beyond twisted and contorted into a sickeningly grotesque parody of its normal self. Buildings crumbled like paper dolls tossed from a child's tantrum-tinged hand. Cars careened through the streets like possessed insects, their mangled bodies careening off each other in a nightmarish ballet of carnage.
The cacophony of screams and wailing sirens seared my eardrums as my mind struggled to comprehend the unspeakable horror unfurling before me.
This couldn’t be happening.
It wasn’t possible.
But the reality seared into my soul like acid fire as the building itself buckled and groaned around me, metal beams creaking in protest like tortured animals as they snapped and crumpled under an unseen force.
The 21st floor tilted precariously to one side, casting me against the desk. I slid across the polished surface, slamming into the cold, unforgiving wall seconds before everything above me simply imploded like a dying star imploding upon itself.
I lay there, pressed against the unyielding concrete and steel, my mind reeling in sickening shock as I tried to wrap my numbed thoughts around what was happening.
The building was collapsing. On top of me.
Please, God, have mercy. Please, please—no! No, no, NOOOO—
The world dissolved into an abyssal void as the building’s weight collapsed on me like a falling asteroid, crushing every ounce of humanity from my body. I couldn't scream anymore. I was nothing but meat and bone, pulp and gore spattered across the shredded ruin of my office. The last sensation I felt before everything went black was searing agony seeping through my splintered femur as it snapped like a twig beneath the mountain of concrete and steel that had become my tomb.
And then...nothingness. Complete, soul-crushing nothingness.
Until I woke up. Again. Still trapped inside this living nightmare. My consciousness clawing its way back to awareness with excruciating agony seeping through every nerve ending like a thousand knives stabbing me awake. Again and again, an eternal cycle of hellish torment, reliving the same sickeningly graphic death over and over and—
Over and over and OVER AND—
I woke up gasping, my body convulsing against the cold, unforgiving steel restraints that bound my thrashing limbs. The acrid taste of bile seared my tongue as I retched violently against my gagged mouth.
The ceiling lights flickered erratically overhead, casting sickly shadows across the sterile walls of whatever hellhole I'd woken up in. My mind reeled like a demented Ferris wheel, trying to piece together the fractured shards of my shattered sanity.
I was alive again.
But for how long?
And why?
The only thing I could be certain of was that when the next wave of torment came crashing down on me—like it always did—I wouldn't be ready. I couldn’t be prepared for this living hell. There was no escape from this endless cycle of unimaginable suffering.
There would never be any peace.
No rest. No respite. No reprieve from this nightmarish purgatory of unending agony.
I screamed until my voice shredded into a bloody, hacking rasp. Until I could scream no more. Until there was nothing left inside me but raw, animal terror. And the sick, soul-shredding certainty that it would never end. Ever. Again. And again...forever.
(continue this scene:) The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.
The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained
The second part of this silence had built up more insidiously. It began with the absence of normal sounds, as if the inn itself was growing old and creaky one joint at a time. The floorboards groaned beneath each man's unshifting weight, the beams groaned in protest of their own age. But these were not the complaints of wear and tear – they sounded like the labored gasps of something dying.
And then there were the hushes that came between words unspoken. These were like small gaps left unfilled in a tapestry – silences woven into the fabric of conversation itself, so that when someone paused to take breath, the silence seemed to expand to fill the gap, and then spread wider again. It was as if the very air within the inn's walls held the memory of all those long-forgotten conversations and laughter, each one leaving behind a faint shadow or echo, like the afterglow of embers in a hearth.
Finally there were the silences that lay beyond any sound – silences that seemed to press upon the skin as a cold wind might if it had substance. These were not the absence of sound but its opposite: they were the silence between beats of a man's own heart, between each breath he drew, and between every thought that stirred within his mind.
And in this last kind of silence, which was almost more terrible than any other because it could not be heard or seen, there hung the weight of centuries of unspeakable acts. Each of them had left behind a stain upon the world – a mark as indelible as bloodstains upon fine linen, yet so faint that only one attuned to such things might ever perceive them.
It was into this place that three weary travelers arrived, their own footfalls sounding like thunder in the oppressive quiet. And though they did not know it then, each of them carried with him some portion of that burdened weight – some fragment of the stain that clung like a pall to all men who dared to walk these forsaken roads.
The lights flickered erratically, casting jagged shadows across the dimly-lit control room. On the holodisplay above them, the hazy blue-green disc of New Earth II loomed larger with each passing tick on the countdown timer. The ship's AI, EVE-Theta, issued a clipped, robotic update: "Atmospheric entry initiated. Prepare for landing sequence."
A chorus of tense whimpers and strained mutterings crackled through the comms system. Lieutenant Commander Ryder tensed in her acceleration chair, eyes locked on the main display as her crewmates fidgeted restlessly around them. They'd spent decades making this grueling journey, eking every last scrap of life support and consumables from the derelict Arkship they'd salvaged.
On the bridge's aft bulkhead, Lieutenant Commander Kaelin Zhenlin gripped the console's edge until his knuckles turned white. He'd been born en-route; New Earth II was all he'd ever known as home. The thought of never setting foot on solid ground again threatened to buckle his composure.
"Status check?" Ryder barked, her voice a blade-edged command cutting through the rising unease.
"All systems nominal," replied Ensign Daxton from helm. Her voice wavered slightly around the edges, but otherwise she managed an unnerving air of calm professionalism. "Grav-sleds are online and ready for touchdown."
"Initiating landing sequence in three... two—"
A blinding flash ripped across the viewscreen, bathing the bridge in searing white light before plunging them into an abrupt, absolute blackness.
The lights out.
The ship's AI stuttered to silence, leaving only the steady thrum of dying systems and the ragged gasps of terrorized crewmembers. The ship lurched hard to port as its inertial dampers struggled to compensate for some unknown impact.
"Theta? Theta, can you—"
Ryder's query died on her lips as a second, much harsher impact shockwave shook the Arkship savagely starboardward. Bulkheads groaned like stressed hull plate around them. Alarms howled into stunned silence as systems failed or overloaded in a cacophony of screeching protests.
"Theta? Theta—!" Ryder bellowed her command again, her voice cracking against the backdrop of hellish chaos.
There was no response. No reassuring AI voice offering soothing reassurances or damage reports. Only an echoing void where the ship's consciousness should have been.
Lieutenant Commander Zhenlin swore savagely under his breath as he clawed frantically at the console interfaces. "Comm override—EVA suits, initiate—"
The bridge went dark again, plunging Ryder and her crew into utter blackness punctuated only by the staccato crackle of dying systems.
"EVA suits...all stations, EVA—EVA—EVA!" Zhenlin roared above the howling cacophess as he yanked his own helmet's integrity seal hard aft. The suit's life support kicked online with a sharp hiss, flooding his senses with cool, clean air and the steady thrum of its own life-support systems.
Ryder's own EVA suit came online moments later. She felt her helmet's seals snap home around her faceplate with a familiar click as the suit's systems initiated their fail-safe protocols. The sudden rush of pure O2 through her reb breathermask sent her vision swimming for an instant before the suit's own chem-sens stabilized.
" theta...theta, this is—"
Ryder's desperate comms call went unanswered once more as the ship lurched hard to starboard, throwing her against her seat restraints. The inertial dampeners finally failed, hurling her crewmates—and herself—violently across the buckled deckplates like meat inside a mangled meat grinder.
"New mission priority: EVA egress—EVA egress now!" Zhenlin snarled above the keening wail of hull breaches and failing structural integrity. "Get us out of here, NOW!"
Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman.
Story idea: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
Pebbles ricocheted off my forehead as I ducked beneath a crumbling concrete slab. My heart pounded in perfect sync with the distant boom-boom-booms of tanks closing in. I flattened against the cold ground, gasping for air.
"Move! Get us out of here!" Nessa's anguished voice cut through the chaos. "We can't stay put like sitting ducks!"
I nodded without lifting my head, already pushing myself up and vaulting over the rubble. The familiar rush of adrenaline coursed through me, heightening every sense. The acrid stench of burning buildings seared my nostrils; the metallic tang of blood slicked under my fingertips.
"Run!" I bellowed back, yanking Nessa by her arm, jerking us both forward into the dark alleyway's twisted network of narrow passages.
We'd been on the run for hours – days? Time lost all meaning when every breath counted against the regime's sadistic death squads. My shoes skidded on slick filth and gore as we careened around corners, desperate to evade pursuit.
A rifle cracked behind us. I shoved Nessa hard into a recessed doorway, wedging myself between her quaking body and the splintering wood. My gun hand tightened on my holstered Sig-Sauer 9mm.
More shots rang out – too many to count – as armed enforcers swarmed down the alley's dead ends in pursuit.
I exhaled raggedly against Nessa's sweat-slicked temple. "We're almost there."
A muffled thud echoed from up ahead, followed by a guttural grunt. My pulse lurched into overdrive.
The rebels were breaching the extraction point.
"Go! Now!" I roared, shoving Nessa hard enough to send us both careening headfirst into the darkness.
We hit the relative cover of an old bombed-out tenement's decaying structure mere steps before a hail of automatic fire shredded the alley's crumbling wall. Bullets zinged off our clothes and ricocheted off splintering wood, showering us with flying debris and shrapnel.
My boots skidded on slick blood as I clawed Nessa forward, hauling us both into the ruined tenement's musty bowels. We nearly toppled headfirst down a half- collapsed staircase as we sprinted deeper into the decaying edifice.
The desperate gasps of my team mates – Jace, Kael, and Ayva – grew louder as we converged on our escape point.
Then, just ahead, I heard the heavy thump-thunk of reinforced metal shutters slamming down like a iron wall between us and certain death.
We'd made it. Barely.
But that brief respite imploded into pandemonium as Nessa's strangled curse punctuated an earsplitting boom – the impact of a rocket-propelled grenade detonating just inches from our position, collapsing half the tenement's superstructure above us in a shower of dust and rubble.
The ground buckled beneath my knees. The concussion wave sent me tumbling head-first through the settling chaos.
Everything went black as I fell. And then – nothing. Absolute silence. Darkness absolute and merciful. Relief.
Until the searing agony ripped through my leg, shattering my senses like glass. My mind registered only searing pain – an infernal firestorm clawing its way up my shinbone and thigh.
And then came the screams. The howls of those I'd risked everything to save – my friends, my brothers and sisters – as they clawed desperately through the wreckage for me.
For me. Still alive. Still fighting. Still defiant in the face of hell's own retribution.
But not for long. Not if I couldn't move. Not if I couldn't get us out.
Out. Out. OUT! NOW! NOWWWW!!
My ragged, hoarse bellowed plea died in my scorched throat as the world dissolved into a blood-soaked hellhole of blinding light and searing pain. The last thing I saw was the snarling face of Major fucking Valenzia – the sadistic monster who'd orchestrated this atrocity – his cold, pitiless eyes boring through the choking smoke and ruin. His twisted sneer promising me an eternity of unimaginable suffering before he finally put a bullet in my brain.
And then – nothing. Except the soundless howl of my own unending howl as I screamed into the abyss.