well, this is.. not.. what... i dont even-
I write like
Chuck Palahniuk
I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!
He wonders how many dingy apartments like this one he has been to. It seems like the past three years have been nothing but a big, long-ass road-trip that has taken him from one family of strangers to the next. And the families stay as strangers, of course since none of them can really look him in the eye after he does his thing. They usually tell him to get out in wordless gestures.
With the exception of that one single father in New York who turned the tables on him and tried to exorcise Jared. The man was so convinced that the boy is a demon himself that Jared actually had to knock the other out. Ugh, unconscious bodies - messy business.
Restlessly he lets his hand hover over the candle, watching the flame waver at the slight change in the air. Concentrating, he lowers his palm and smiles softly when all he feels is warmth. The fire welcomes him, cradles his skin and sparks something deep within him, something that reminds him of home--
His silent flirting with the inanimate object is interrupted when the mother of his newest person-to-be-saved comes out of the girl's bedroom, closing the door behind her to slightly subdue the screeching from the being inside her child. Jared can easily relate, he knows what it feels like, seeing a loved one being completely taken over by evil. He also knows the repercussions and that this exorcism is just the beginning to the girl's healing. But her family will have to do the rest. He's no therapist.