(Henry POV)
Ah, finally, after watching you for so long, I have my hands around your throat.
Hm? Kenny, why are you looking at me like that? Not the reaction I had thought you would have. Shouldn't you defend yourself?
Why tell your friends to stop? Why not call the police? I had scripted a whole play of me being arrested. Then maybe the cops would ask me to apologize to you, or I would get arrested, letting you think you got rid of me before I came back. My arrest would either give the cops a reason to interrogate you, at least to FINALLY SPEAK with you, or it would reveal my identity to you, loud and clear, more than my appearance ever could.
I have to say. You are a superb actor. It's a pity that I didn't buy it.
Plan changed. First threatening you, then showing myself vulnerable. Wow, you are stronger than I thought. Have you learned some fighting techniques? But it is just alright. You are in control. I am simply angry, broken, and dumb. Vulnerable for you to come and convince me.
Now the mirror scene. Kenny, what are you doing, waiting for the steam to blur my image, for the condensate to stop my act? You… are surprisingly considerate and smarter than I thought. With this, you will convince me in no time.
I like your friends; I want to believe that they are played by you as well, and not co-conspirators. These guys are friends—real friends that I would have loved to have back then.
Why do you ask me to come into your home? You so easily let me search through everything. I love to have my hands on your throat because it is the way in which you killed my sister.
Hmm? What is this? When I saw his eyes turn red, during a so-called vision, when I saw you cry, I wavered for a moment.
But I thought back of the pictures and videos that clearly showed him, Kennith Howard. It was impossible to be someone else.
Seeing him change—a big tattoo on his muscular back—I touched it involuntarily. The picture was disturbing but beautiful. But most importantly, it never even so much as peeked through his clothes in the pictures and videos with Henrietta.
In the morgue, he got me again to waver. When I saw his hand tremble touching my sister, I could have excused it with him in disbelief of what he had done, with guilt and fear. Nonetheless, when he suddenly fell, his heart having stopped, I was really shocked, and I was terrified. Our play had only started; how could you leave the stage so soon?
Touching the lips my sister had kissed and pressing my hands against the chest that she lay on as well—it was bizarre.
He was back, and his eyes had changed. When I had him with his back against my chest, I started to search for reasons. Maybe he had two different personalities. Perhaps he was possessed.
Possessed? Was this possible?
However, when we arrived home, I came back to my senses, sadly pissing him off, though I had so much fun with his phone and the pictures on them. Just some nonsense, some of him drunk with his friends, some drawings.
Did you love a girl who was not my sister? What a Casanova. I am not to talk, but I don't like it. I would have liked it more if she were dead as well. Why had she survived? Why are you so protective of her? Why did my sister have to die?
Now I don't want to believe you are possessed anymore. I am a little damn fucking angry, Kenny.
Kenny, I am watching you. You won't get away from me.
The cops finally came; they agitated you quite a bit, how lively.
I loved your family. See, although everyone else related to you is garbage, you got yourself a nice grandma watching over you. You have more than I have, than I will ever have.
Many things are strange in this case. However, I still believed it was either you or a demon inside you.
My plans got crumbled when I saw you looking away from me, having a nosebleed, while your eye color had changed again. Have you really seen something? Have you discovered my past excesses, or… have you seen what I have planned to do with you? You don't seem angry anymore.
You seem to be done with me.
I don't like that, not at all. We have just started.
But as you wish. I'll speed up everything; I will get your face published over the whole internet. I wanted to take my time, but you didn't want to play with me. You left me with no choice.
Hadn't thought your father would come; hadn't thought he would beat you like this.
See? Had you continued to play with me, nothing of this would have happened.
Kenny wanted me to be his dog; I had never before been a dog. Fine. I'm really starting to wish for this not to be over so soon. If you are innocent, I will set everything right.
Still, I don't like to be called a dog. I get him a few 'reporters' to teach him manners his father hadn't gotten into him.
But Kenny, you are not innocent. You want to flee the country, right? What are you doing walking out the hospital in the middle of the night?
Are you saying goodbye to my sister, where you left her the last time? The coroner had told me; he told me where they found her and that they had cameras there to catch any suspect who came back, and ah, there it is. The blood of my sister on the street.
I didn't believe you. And then I didn't want to die alone. So I injured you and let us get dragged together to hell.
Interestingly, the monster just gripped me tightly, not injuring me as it brought me wherever. I lost consciousness when we came to a cave, letting go of him, but no matter. The monster will get him as well.
I am good; I am alright.
As long as he dies here with me.