Then he jumped backwards as he held his wrist in disbelief.
The Boogeyman staggered a few steps, his massive, stitched body recoiling from the sudden pain.
His glowing red eyes widened, the black threads holding his flesh together pulling tight as he clutched his broken wrist with his other hand.
Blood — dark and thick — oozed from the torn stitches, dripping onto the foggy alley ground with soft, wet plops.
The tall, patchwork monster looked at the injury with shock, the jagged bone visible through the ripped skin, the pain sharp and unexpected.
He shook his hand, trying to shake off the damage, but the wrist hung limp, the crack echoing in his mind as he stared at the small boy standing calmly before him.
Then he looked at Rin with a shallow, dead stare and asked, his raspy voice low and menacing,
"Who the hell are you?"
