| Wilto: | You will awake that night to a dull scraping sound, growing ever louder. A widening crack will appear in your wall, from which inky black tendrils will lash out at you—from which I will emerge, my face twisted in pain, suspended like a lurching, seizing marionette. Your screams will fall upon deaf ears, for I am possessed of a madness that is not my own—I have become a vehicle of dark retribution, stripped of any trace of the humanity I once had. You have played at God, Jess, and there is a penance to be paid. |