Haunted Wood You Never Know

Memory frowned...the sick pride Santiago showed at all that death...it felt familiar. "All that destruction...and for what? What did you really get from it? We're damaged. Useless to anything besides this life. Killers...and we either go insane one day, or die the same way." 
He hated it. He hated this life, and yet similarly hated that he was powerless to leave. Who would trust a Nightwalker? Who would love a demon? 
"And life as a spoiled pet, no better than a dog, isn't much better. Fat inside a cage or on a leash, not able to hunt, or run, or be a wolf." 
The change of subject pulled him out of his funk. "Hes a sweet kid. Makes you want to protect him- reminds me of my own son."