“Don’t!” Abe yells, desperation all over his face and voice. But he doesn’t understand. This is how I’m gonna solve everything. This is how I’ll get everything back to normal.

Back at the cabin, all those days ago, I took the mask from Joanna and put it on my face to get her to possess me. It melded with my own face, nearly suffocating me in the process, but I managed to tear a hole for my mouth before any permanent damage could be done. As promised by the book I read, the possession made her face-bearer body tangible to me, allowing me to stab her to death. I saw her die right in front of my eyes, bleeding the same crimson that always leaked from her eyes before white flames came and ate away the rest of her body into nothingness.

Or so I thought.

In reality, she never died. I never managed to kill her in her ghost form. It was only an illusion she showed me. A damn convincing one at that, considering it took me this long to realize what it really was. What all of this really was. I get the feeling that wasn’t purely my own fault, either - she has to have influenced my mind somehow to keep me from coming to this conclusion before.

But now I know the truth, and I know how to fix things. Since the mask is what started the possession, and the possession is still going on… it has to mean that the mask never really came off. So now I have to take it off. No matter how much it’s gonna hurt.

I place the tip of the knife against the skin of my temple. It’s cold. I feel it tremble. Am I really gonna be able to do this?

“Please, don’t!” Abe tries again, tears forming in his eyes.

“Shut up!” I snap, and he recoils. “I… I have to do this. Go away! You’re distracting!”

“Why?” he cries. “Why do have to do it? What are you even doing?”

“Leave!” I yell, but he’s not leaving. Fuck. Annoying little shit… I just have to do it with him watching.

I close my eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. On the next breath out, I’ll do it. Breathe in, breathe out. Dammit. I couldn’t do it. Just try again. Breathe in…

New noises. Abe is doing something. It sounds like --

I open my eyes and catch him in the act, phone in his hand. He sees that I see him. He freezes.

“Little shit!” I lower the knife temporarily and stand up to approach the boy. For the first second, he’s too scared to move, but then he begins backing away like the little rat he is.

I extend my other hand. “Give me that,” I growl, but he won’t give me the phone. Gods. I didn’t want it to come to this, but he leaves me no choice.

Slowly, I point the knife at him. ”Give me the phone, or I’m gonna hurt you.”

Fear utterly paralyzes the boy. I can practically hear his pulse reach records. In some other situation, it’d give me pleasure, but right now, all I can focus on is my survival.

I reach the other hand again and slowly grab the phone. He eases his grip on it carefully but obediently.

I look at the screen. Looks like he didn’t manage to start a call yet. I nearly pocket the phone before remembering it can be tracked. Instead, I throw it onto the couch.

Okay. Now I also have to keep Abe from fetching the phone while carving my own face off. That makes things even more difficult, but if I want the illusions to end, I have no other ch-

A blood-chilling noise familiar from my nightmares creeps into the soundscape. Sirens.

They’re coming for me. They have to be coming for me. I don’t know what got them on my trail, but surely Joanna is to blame, confusing me and tricking me so many times. Or maybe Abe did manage to make a call, even one second of silence, and there were cops nearby that thought to check it out. I don’t know if that’s how it works, but I have to take that possibility into consideration. In any case… the best option for me right now is to flee. But before I do that, there’s a chance I can give myself a little head start.

I raise the knife again. Abe raises his hands with a whimper.

“I was not here,” I say, slowly and clearly. “I was not here, and I didn’t do anything. Do you understand?”

He nods fervently, face wrinkled up in distress. Looks like he gets the picture.

I back away, open my jacket and shove the knife in the breast pocket. The tip of the blade rips through the bottom, but for a makeshift scabbard, it’s good enough. I rush up the stairs and open the door to my room --

“Where are you going?” Abe shouts after me.

I stop to think of a lie. “The beach,” I yell back. It’s not too far away, but it’s at least it’s somewhere I know I’m not going. Though Abe can be smart. He’ll probably realize my exact thought process. Shit. Shouldn’t have said anything.

I leap across the room to the window and open it. The sirens’ wailing becomes painful to the ears, but it doesn’t seem like the source is within view. Good.

I climb on the windowsill and focus on the old, sturdy oak growing right outside - specifically the branch closest to the window, extending right above me. I haven’t done this in a while… I hope I can still pull it off.

I jump and grab onto the branch. My grip on its rough-barked surface holds, but a screaming sting on my left wrist nearly makes me fall. Fuck! I forgot about the aura nullifier. I hiss to help bear the pain and shimmy along the branch to the trunk, where I step down to another branch and climb my way down to the ground. I’d like to catch my breath, but red and blue lights begin to flash near the front of the house. Shit. No time to rest.

I run to the back yard and shove my way through the hedge - very glad it’s not any thorned bush - and emerge at the back of another house. Glancing around to make sure no one’s watching, I circle to the front yard and step onto the street. From there, I can start walking in a regular, nonsuspicious manner.

But where am I gonna go? I know to head away from the house, but I can’t just keep walking forever. I need a place to hide. I guess the woods are better than the streets. The cabin? I guess it’s free now that --

Michi. I killed Michi after I got possessed. It might not have actually happened. She might still be alive. She might have told the cops what happened. She might be the reason they’re after me!

I want to run to the woods and kill her as fast as possible - but that doesn’t seem smart, no. I should keep her alive, but as a hostage, like last time. Last time didn’t really work out, granted… but now that I know what to look out for, my chances are better, right? And Joanna knows that. She has to be watching me, so she knows that. She wouldn’t risk Michi’s life again with a worse chance of success, would she?

I don’t think I have any options. I have to go for it. It’s the only shot I have of forcing her out of my head.

Or, no, wait. Wasn’t there another? Just before I left the house, I was going to do something, I was going to…

I was going to carve my own face off? Holy shit. Why did I think that? That’s insane. There’s no guarantee that would work. Even if it did, I’d probably bleed out very soon after and die. Did… did Joanna put that thought into my head? Or was it my own, and she blocked whatever part of my brain would have normally rejected the idea? How much control does she have over my mind? Or is her power limited only to causing hallucinations, and I’m actually just going insane on my own?

I shake my head. This is too confusing. Right now, I need to just focus on getting to the cabin. If Michi’s there, I can force Joanna to stop fucking with me. If she’s not there… at least I’ll have a place to hide out at for a while.

I stop my somewhat-aimless wandering and think about where I need to head. This area isn’t the most familiar to me, but I’m pretty sure that if I take a left at this crossing I’m about to reach, I can make it to a street that’ll take me near the graveyard. I wish I knew where exactly the cabin was so that I could maybe avoid crossing some big streets, but I only know how to get there through that graveyard.

Okay. I reach the crossing and take the left. Looks about the way I expected. Okay. Okay. Good. The situation’s under control. I’m gonna get through this. I just gotta --

I hiss at a small sting on my left palm. What the hell? I raise the hand to see a tiny, clean cut right below the base of the index finger. Where did that come from?

Another cut, another sting, right next to it, connecting to the end of the last. As soon as it’s done, another one comes, forming a kind of zig-zag, maybe a crude, angular S…

The invisible blade draws a box to its left. Or… an O. It’s… it’s writing.

SO YOU

FIGURED

IT OUT?

…Joanna. This has to be Joanna. Is this her way of communicating with me? Isn’t there any better way, like…

“Why don’t you just talk to me?” I growl, though keep my voice down. “Can’t you make me hear things?”

A wave of warmth passes over the palm, healing the wounds. But only to make space for more.

I GET TO

HURT YOU

THIS WAY.

"Drama queen."

Another cleaning swipe.

YOU HURT

1. IT’S

ONLY FAIR.

I groan, closing my fist. I shouldn’t be reading what she’s saying. She’s probably just trying to distract me while she reroutes my walk straight to the police station or something.

I look around at the trees and the asphalt road and the pastel houses and their well-kept, idyllic yards separated by hedges. I've just arrived at the turn to the street I need to be on, and I take it. Everything seems all good and real. I just need to be alert…

My palm warms up again. More stings. Damn. No, don't look. Focus on walking. Even though it's terribly boring. Even though this walking pace is infuriatingly slow.

If it's slow, though, I can take a peek, right? She can't do any harm in that little time. Just a quick peek. It might even be something useful.

I open my hand and glance at it.

MADE YOU

LOOK.

And a drawing of a dick.

I shove the hand in my pocket and keep walking. "Fuck you," I mutter, but I realize I'm not done. Now that I know she's listening, I have a hell of a lot to say.

"You've got a lot of nerve," I begin, "putting me through all those illusions. What was the point of all that, anyway? Just to fuck with me?"

Another wave of heat and a few incisions. I don't even have to look to see that she wrote 'yes'.

I sigh. "Well, it's not gonna work anymore. If anything weird happens, I’ll know you’re to blame. And don’t even bother trying it just to shock me. You should know by now that I’ve seen far worse things than you could ever think of."

I don’t feel anything on my hand. I guess she had no retort to that. Just silence.

Silence…

The sirens have stopped.

No. Were they ever there to begin with?

The realization brings a grin to my face. The sirens were an illusion as well. Or, no, wait - my grin melts away. Do I know that for sure? They could’ve just turned them off. Do they turn them off if they don’t find the guy? Dammit. They still might be onto me. But at least now I know there’s a good possibility they aren’t. As long as there’s a possibility, I’m winning.

I pocket my other hand and adopt a cocky smile. ”What do you think, Joanna? Were those sirens real?”

There’s a low rumble beneath my feet, then sharp crackling ahead - the asphalt is breaking. But it’s… off. Just a bit short of real, like an effect in a movie. It’s only visible with careful scrutiny, but it is there. And now I can tell.

The cracks form letters. This is her new notepad.

THEY WERE.

With a dismissive humph, I march through the illusion. The cracks fade away as I step on them.

“Of course you’d say that,” I say. “You might even be telling the truth. But if you think I'm just gonna give up and turn myself in, you're dead wrong. I'm gonna keep fighting, and I'm gonna find a way out of this. I'm gonna come out winning, and I'm gonna get myself the life I deserve."

THE LIFE

YOU

DESERVE?

The message changes before I can respond.

YOU DON'T

EVEN DESERVE

TO BE ALIVE.

"Oh?" I tilt my head, taunting her. "What happened to every life being precious? What happened to human rights?"

The next cracks are noticeably thicker.

YOU ARE

NOT

HUMAN.

I smile at such satisfying words. "Damn right I'm not," I whisper. "I'm better."

YOU'RE

PATHETIC.

I shrug. I guess insults are all that she has left. I take a moment to check my surroundings to make sure I keep my upper hand - yep, everything looks the way it should. The field of gravel on my right tells me that the street by which the graveyard is pretty close by now. Soon enough, I'll get to slip into the woods… the peaceful, calming woods. I won't need to worry as much about passersby overhearing my conversation there…

New cracks start forming in the asphalt. What, more insults?

HE ISN'T

REAL.

...What?

I stop, not wanting to brush away the message yet. What does she mean, does she mean…

She means HIM.

Rage surges through my body. My hands curl into fists. The nails dig into my palms.

"How dare you," I say, voice slow and quiet but brimming with hate. "How dare you fucking say that."

It wasn't enough that she pretended to be HIM, that she bastardized HIS image and HIS prophecies. Now she has to commit the greatest act of heresy and deny HIS very existence.

"You're very lucky you're incorporeal now," I add. "If you were in front of me right now, in your old human body…"

I stop myself before I get carried away. Glancing around, no one else seems to be close, but it still probably isn't smart to speak death threats aloud. She seems to be able to read my mind to some extent, anyway. She should already know what I'm imagining...

The cracks change. For a split second, I have the hope of them spelling a desperate plea for me to stop, but…

YOU MADE

HIM UP.

She just ignored everything I thought and said. To repeat this ugly, ugly lie. For what? Does she actually think I'm gonna believe her?

Another change.

YOU ALWAYS

DENY THIS.

Always…?

YOU KEEP

CONVINCING

YOURSELF.

What?

IT'S TOO PAINFUL

TO SEE THE TRUTH.

"...Stop." I don't like this. I don't like what she's implying.

YOU'RE DOING

IT AGAIN.

"No," I say. "You don't understand. I know HE is real. There is…"

I switch to unvoiced thoughts.

There is clear proof. HE led me to a chamber filled with items of Helixian past. I brought those items home. HE taught me spells, spells that changed real things in the real world. Would I really have gotten away with all my murders if the silencer circuit didn't work? The transportation circle I used to bring them to my basement? The disintegration circle I used to get rid of their bodies?

With each new piece of evidence, my heartbeat slows down from its frantic rhythm. That's right. I know HE and everything HE has given me is real. Joanna's only trying to screw with me, probably to distract me from… what was it that I was doing?

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Shit. I think it had something to do with the graveyard. The woods. The cabin. But what did I need to do there?

I guess it doesn't matter yet. It'll come to me on the way there, I'm sure.

I give myself a light slap on my right cheek. My surroundings become sharper again. I need to stay alert.

I pace to the end of the road and enter the street I usually take to the store. The graveyard's gates are already in sight. Alright, I make it there --

The sign has changed. Instead of MASARA GRAVEYARD, it says…

HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING

TO KEEP FOOLING YOURSELF?

I quickly slip through the gates. I don’t wanna look at that any longer than I have to.

The graveyard is even prettier than last time thanks to the sunlight, specks of dust and pollen hovering in the air between the monuments, but I don’t have time to stop and enjoy the view. I head to the edge of the yard and enter the woods. I march through the mossy forest floor until I reach the actual path, then follow it further, flanked by prickly branches and bushes.

Now that I’m off the streets, I can breathe easy. It’s safer here. It has always felt safer in the woods. No cars, no people, just the trees and wildlife. Shade and silence.

My stomach grumbles. Huh. I guess I was too stressed before to realize I was hungry. When did I last eat? I know I ate in the morning, and well at that, before the psych appointment. But that wasn’t too long ago, was it? Maybe I'm burning food faster since I'm still recovering from the illness. No, wait, there was no illness, it was all Joanna. Gods, this is annoying. I better finish this fast so… wait, what was I supposed to do here?

Right, the cabin. And Michi. Something with Michi. Kill her? Wipe her memory? I mean, if I wipe her memory, she'll be like nothing ever happened, and if she told the police something before, they'll think now it was just her messing around. Because she's a kid and kids are weird and quirky. That's perfect for me. That's my plan.

And there's the cabin! She should be around here somewhere. I need to slow down my pace so I can catch her by surprise. I need stealth, especially this time now that she knows my aura's been suppressed. She won’t let herself be caught off-guard.

I glance around the opening, catching neither Michi nor anything surreal. She might be indoors. In that case, she’s already trapped if I go in. No need for stalking. But was there ever? I’ve already beat her once in a chase. Though back then I had mental clarity on my side. Joanna wasn’t as… brave with the illusions back then… or was she? Did any of it happen? I mean, if I killed her, there’d be no reason for me to be here in the first place…

It doesn't matter. I'm going in.

I walk across the opening and place my hand on the rusty door handle. I stop.

I imagine her there, inside, utterly unprepared. I imagine myself busting through the door, startling her. Her terror only growing as she recognizes me. How I’ll pounce on her like a tiger before she can try anything. How I’ll dig my nails into her skin, feel the muscles underneath flex and relax as she struggles.

My heart pounds in elation. After all the bullshit these past few days, I’ll finally get to hunt again, to feel alive as I’m killing something else. Be what I really am.

Now, it’s time to claim my prize.

I shove the door open. I look for Michi, nothing else matters, but she’s not there. Not standing in the open, at least. She must be hiding, she must have heard me after all. Good! It’s more exciting that way.

I close the door behind me and drag the wooden bench beside the table in front, screech - now she won’t be able to escape, not without me noticing, at least. I check the smaller room on the right - no one there, no places to hide. She must be in the main room. Let’s see. Under the table? Nothing there. In the fireplace? Nothing there. That leaves… that pile of mattresses. I could see her fitting inside that pile, yes. She has to be there, curled up, praying she won’t be found…

I walk closer. Slowly. I want her to fear. Fear is the best seasoning. Hunger is a close second, and I’ve got both on my side. My heart flutters, my stomach writhes. Only seconds now…

I place my fingers on the edge of the mattress. Grasp it. This is it. Three, two, one…

I throw the mattress aside.

Nothing.

I strip more mattresses away. Still nothing. She’s not here? But I need… maybe she’s outside?

I rush out - no, I need to move the bench first, so fucking annoying, okay, there. I rip the door open and leap outside. I look around, but I can’t see her anywhere. Where is she? I need to find her! I need to kill her, eat her!

“Pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-”

“Shut up!” I snap, spit flying out of my mouth. Gods. I hope that pippiret gets the message. I don’t need any distractions, any interruptions. I need to find Michi, I need to. But how am I gonna…

Joanna. Joanna knows where she is. They're always scheming together, scheming against me.

I bring my left palm up to my face. “Where is she?”

The skin is still smooth. Come on, respond. Respond, you bitch. Don't you dare go silent on me now.

A sting, a splitting wound. She's responding.

DON'T

YOU

REMEMBER?

Remember…? Don’t talk to me about remembering! You're the one fucking with my memory!

“Just tell me where she is!” More spit flies from my mouth, now foaming.

The palm is healed. Well? I'm waiting. Write! Do it already!

Finally! Words are forming…

SHE'S

RIGHT

HERE.

What?

“What the fuck do you --”

A forceful spasm in my stomach cuts me off. The surprise is nearly enough to topple me, but I stay on my feet.

I’d say that was caused by hunger, but something else is off. My stomach no longer feels hollow - on the contrary, it feels quite full. But not with food. It’s more like there’s a single, large mass. It’s heavy, clearly weighing me down. What is…

It just moved.

In fact, I think that spasm from before was actually…

The lump lurches, throwing me off balance again, and this time I can’t recover. I break my fall with my hands, wincing at the sharp gravel digging into my palms, and stay there on all fours.

Joanna’s words return to my mind and a horrible realization dawns on me.

No, it isn’t possible. She wouldn’t fit. Even if she did, she’d be long dead by now, from suffocation, overheating, the acids…

I place a hand on my abdomen in hopes to calm the commotion, but it only seems to make things worse. The mass begins to twitch, to expand. The walls of my stomach are stretching, stretching way too much. Air is squeezed out of my lungs as the mass pushes up against them.

“S-stop,” I wheeze, but it keeps going. I can’t reason with her. Maybe she can only be convinced through force…

I form a fist and jab it into my gut.

Something pokes up into my esophagus. A tidal wave of nausea washes over me, and I barely stop myself from collapsing. I cough, cough and retch, all the while I can feel it advancing, creeping up through my chest… is it her arm? Is she trying to reach the outside and grab something to pull herself out with? But the rest of her body won’t be able to fit through! Unless she's prepared to tear her way out...

I need to stop her. I need to make her go back down.

I cover my mouth and begin swallowing between my coughs, as fast and as many times as I’m able. I wish, I pray for her to begin descending, but she isn’t even slowing down. I think I need to give it up. I need to take in as much air as I can before I’m no longer able.

The sharp inhale finishes right as she breaks through, arriving in my mouth with the sour sting of vomit. I realize I can't move my head, her bones locking me to this position. I try swallowing again, but it's pointless. Her fingers brush against my tongue and I can feel - and taste - the stomach contents coating her digits. Disgusting as it is, it gives me an idea.

I open my mouth and shove my own fingers in, grabbing Michi’s. She flinches. I yank them towards the left, between my molars, and keep pulling until my own fingers are out of harm’s way.

Then I bite down. Hard.

A sharp whine reverberates in my chest. She tugs back, with her entire arm, bruising my insides, but I don’t let go. A taste of blood spreads through my mouth. It tastes bad. It tastes salty and metallic and like something I should get out of my mouth rather than swallow. It tastes the way blood tasted before HE made it wonderful.

The pressure in my lungs is growing. Pressure to expel the carbon dioxide before it poisons my blood. But can I let go yet? Will she really recede? I strengthen my bite - she needs to be convinced, convinced that I’ll only bite her again and again if she tries to come out. But my head is getting heavy --

Crunch.

A yelp, an eruption of blood. Her fingers retreating to my throat. But I didn’t let go. I’m still holding on to…

I spit it out. Her hand slides past the epiglottis. Air moves again. I wheeze out the buildup of stale air and wheeze in precious new air, but cough immediately, drops of blood and vomit having hitched a ride on the current. I wheeze and cough and wheeze and cough and spit and repeat for seconds on end while her arm gradually draws back the rest of the way. I finally catch my breath, collapse onto the gravel and roll onto my side. She’s become a single mass inside the stomach again. She’s shrinking. Thank the gods, thank the gods.

The temptation is great to simply keep my eyes closed and rest until all the nausea and aching left behind has gone, but there’s a noise. A crunching noise on the gravel, only a half-meter away.

I force my eyes open, trying to see past my tears. Something’s moving in the middle of the red-brown stain where I spat everything out. Arms shaking, I lift myself up onto my knees and squint.

It’s two severed fingers, bitten off at their joints. Crawling on their own.

I jerk back like a startled cat, scrambling away on the gravel. Disgusting, unnatural, wrong. I have to put an end to it. I need to stomp on those fuckers until they stop moving.

I get up, groaning from the strain on my weakened body, and keep my head down until I’m sure I can keep my balance. I look to the fingers -- they’re not there.

No, they’re there. Just a meter higher where they used to be, hovering.

Anxiety and uncertainty over how I’ll get rid of them now freezes me in place, but to my great relief, they begin moving away. Though, hey, they can’t just… leave. They’re evidence.

I stagger after the fingers, following them to the edge of the opening. They slip into the woods between two spruces, the same spot as… she went through back then.

They must be heading for the murder scene. That’s actually someplace I need to visit in any case. I need to check if any evidence was left behind. I feel like I checked back then, but back then I didn’t know I had a ghost stuck in my brain that could…

Illusions, right. That whole stomach-exiting episode was one, and so are these floating fingertips. I think I already knew that on some level, but I just didn’t fully understand it. Like realizing I was in a dream without realizing I could choose to wake up or change my surroundings.

I should try to keep a hard-line stance. Only accept the things I can tell are real. Avoid getting caught up in any illusory tricks. Keep control of the situation in my hands, not Joanna’s.

After glancing around for anything else that would seem off and finding nothing, I enter the woods. The fingers wait for me a few meters ahead and start moving again once I approach. They’re leading me, it seems, but it’s not as if finding the way to the murder scene should be hard - as far as I remember, we ran in a straight line. Or, wait. I dragged her body to some other opening to dispose of it. I guess I’ll just follow along.

The trees and rocks that pass me by are vaguely familiar. Memories surface from the last time I saw them. Memories of thrill, pleasure. But they’re only bitter now that I remember how it all ended. I lost control. I killed without a plan. I was lucky to have it happen in the woods with no one around rather than, say, a supermarket, but its implications are no less worrying. And it couldn’t have been due to Joanna. If anything, she would’ve tried to protect Michi.

So the whole rabbit and hellhound thing… was from my mind alone?

Oh, the fingers are slowing down. I notice a sparser part of the forest coming up on our left. The fingers take a turn towards it - that must be the opening.

I pick up my pace, hurrying after the fingers. As they keep slowing down, I’m nearly caught up by the time I reach the opening, but keep a meter or more of distance in case they start to… act up somehow. Like try to claw out my eyes. No, don’t give her any ideas.

The fingers float over to the center of the opening - the center of where my disintegration circle used to be, I believe - and finally stop. In a blink, whatever holds them up lets go, and they drop down to the gravel with a light crunch. Then there’s hissing. They begin to disintegrate. They’re turning into smoke, skin-colored mixed with red. The smoke dissipates in the air.

In a matter of seconds, all of it is gone.

I wait a bit longer by the edge of the opening. Just in case, I suppose. But as nothing else seems to be happening, I dare to walk to the center.

It’s clear to anyone that takes a closer look that the gravel’s been kicked around. I look for any patches where parts of the disintegration circle may have remained, but there are none. And I scrutinize each square centimeter for anything that could be an illusion. Still nothing.

I move on from the gravel to the trees and rocks and moss and other vegetation. I circle the nearby pines to make sure there are no carvings on their bark. There aren’t. I check the sky. No, that’s pointless. You can’t change the sky.

Well, I think that’s everything. No evidence left behind, no illusions. I’d say that’s a relief, but if there really is nothing, why would the fingers lead me here?

…Hmm. Maybe Joanna simply changed her mind. She may have had plans for some other elaborate illusion, but decided not to go through with it for some reason. Maybe she didn’t expect me to commit to this reality-checking thing so much. If she tried some illusion now, I’d be able to see through it - and not just that, but get better at spotting future illusions, too. It does make sense for her to forgo some petty torture scenario to save her skills for some situations that actually matter later on.

Well, if nothing is happening and I’m safe where I am, I can finally take some time to think. Figure out the current situation and what I should do next.

I sit down by the trunk of a nearby pine and start to recap.

Before I came here, I was at home. I had just recently made it there after the illusion of the apocalypse. After yelling at Abe a bit, I finally realized that I never succeeded in killing Joanna in her face-bearer form, that she was still in my head and causing all these weird hallucinations. I had the… fantastic idea of carving my own face off, but luckily I was interrupted by Abe's attempt to call the cops before I could go through with it. Then I heard sirens. I threatened Abe with a knife and told him not to tell anyone I'd been there… gods, I guess I'll just blame it on the ghost if I make it through this alright.

After that, I fled the house without a clear destination. Then I thought of Michi and how she might still be alive and… what did I want to do? I came here to do that. At the cabin, I wanted to kill her, but was that my original plan?

I try to remember, try to think about things, but suddenly my mind is just… all mush. Is it the illness? No, there never was any illness, only Joanna! Is this her doing, too?

Or… maybe it's just low blood sugar. I forgot how hungry I was. When was the last time I ate? Before the psych appointment? It feels like ages ago with all that's happened since, but I don't think it can be more than two hours. Then again, I did have that breakdown...

"Pi-pi-pi-pi!"

I flinch at the loudness of the call. That pippiret's very close by. With some looking, I find the bird on the branch of a small spruce about three meters away. It's looking right at me.

I guess it wants treats just like that one from a couple of days ago. Maybe it's the same one and it recognized me as the one that gave it some scratches before. Dammit, I should've just ignored it. Now I need to make it go away somehow. I won't be able to concentrate while it's around.

I get up and approach the pippiret. It only seems to get more excited.

"Fuck you!" it chirps. "Fuck you!"

"No, fuck you," I mutter. Seems like it's trying to impress me to earn itself more affection.

“Asshole!” it replies. Oh, it knows more than one thing. I wonder what else it knows? I guess I could stay and listen for a minute before shooing it away. I can’t deny that seeing such a fluffy little bird spout such vulgar phrases is somewhat humorous, and Gods know I could use some levity.

“What else do you know?” I ask the bird.

“Shit! Shit!”

I smirk. “Oh, that’s predictable. Don’t you have anything better?”

The pippiret stares at me with its black, beady eyes, head tilted. Then it opens its beak.

“Ichiro.”

I freeze.

“Ichiro Akai.”

How does it… how does it know my name?

“Pi-pi-pi-pi…”

“No, no, say it again,” I prompt the bird. I step closer and offer a hand. “I’ll scratch you. Come on.”

The bird looks at the hand, then me, then the hand, and flits onto it. Its toes wrap around my index finger. I don’t have gloves on this time, but I don’t care. Hygiene can wait, this is more important.

“Say it again,” I plead. “Ich’… Ich’…”

“Ichiro Akai,” it repeats.

“Good, good!” I smile and scratch the pippiret’s plumage, but inside, I’m horrified. The voice it’s trying to mimic… sounds like my own. “Say something more, please. Anything else you heard in that voice…”

The pippiret holds its stare. I notice how much my hand is trembling.

“Ichiro Akai killed me.”

The trembling gets worse.

“Ichiro Akai killed me,” it repeats. “Joanna Murata.”

My hand now shakes so much that the bird abandons it as a perch. It flits back to the spruce.

“No, no, don’t leave,” I whisper. I can’t let it leave. If it leaves, I won’t be able to kill it, and it’ll keep saying those words, those words Joanna must have used my mouth to say the last time I was here, while I was occupied by that… illusion of HIM. It’ll keep saying those words, and in time, someone will hear them, someone that knows Joanna’s family, and tells the cops and they’ll start looking into me and --

No. Wait.

I take a deep breath and exhale it out.

Remember what’s going on. Joanna is still in your head. This could just be another illusion. This bird might not even be real.

I study it closely, as closely as I can from this distance - but nothing seems to be off. That doesn’t mean its words have to be real, though. She could be making the sounds over something else.

“Say it again,” I ask the pippiret, offering a hand again. “Come on. I’ll scratch you again.”

It watches me with one eye. I wiggle a finger, signalling scratches. It flits back over, landing on my palm. Yes!

“Say it,” I whisper, ready to stop talking at any point to listen to its reply. “Come on. Ich’… Ich’…”

“Ichiro Akai.”

It sounded…

I don’t know how it sounded. How am I supposed to know what a real bird mimicking my name would sound like? Its beak sort of moved like how I’d imagine it to move, but I don’t know. It was so fast that I couldn’t possibly tell whether it was altered, either. Shit!

“Ichiro Akai,” the bird repeats, probably wondering where its reward is. I quickly give it a scratch. Whether or not the words are fake, I should get rid of this guy. Better safe than sorry.

Slowly, I bring over my left hand. The pippiret’s a bit apprehensive, but it calms down once I scratch its side with one finger. Side, moving slowly onto its back. I prepare to clamp my hands together. I just need to be sure --

“Ichiro Akai.”

That wasn’t this bird.

I look over my shoulder. Another pippiret has arrived at the opening.

“Ichiro Akai,” it repeats.

“Joanna Murata,” responds the pippiret in my hand. It flies off, joining the other one. No!

“Ichiro Akai,” says another voice - somewhere else in the opening.

The whole forest knows.

More voices join in, uniting in a cacophony of words and chirrups.

“Ichiro Akai!”

“Joanna Murata! Pi-pi-pi!”

“Ichiro Akai killed me! Pi-pi-pi prrrruuu.”

“Prrrruuu. Pi-pi-pi! Ichiro!”

My heart thumps in my throat. What the fuck do I do? There’s no way I can kill all of them!

“Kraw!”

A crow? I turn around to --

I leap out of the bird's way just in time, dodging its extended talons. It pounds the air with its wings to regain the altitude it lost and flies up to a low, dead branch of a pine. But it's not going to perch for long - I can tell that much from its puffed up feathers. It's mad. Must be territorial.

I slip my hand inside my jacket and grab the knife I'd stashed in there. Right as I pull it out, the crow leaps into another charge. I shield my face with my arms while trying my best to point the blade the bird's way, but the bird simply swerves around the knife to swipe at my ear - fuck! I try to swipe back, but the crow’s already too far. Dammit. It's barely perched on the opposite tree before it dives for me again. This bird's insane! But I've got my knife. I've got my knife, and it's only a matter of time before I land a decisive hit --

Something collides with the back of my hand, which drops the knife in startlement. A pippiret flutters back --

The crow screeches, talons out, heading for my face, I cover my eyes, it scratches and pecks the backs of my hands, fuck, fuck! I reach out and grab, I catch one foot, the crow bites but I fling it away! It hits the ground, screeches again, but it gets up and leaps at my face and starts shredding my hands again, fuck, what's wrong with this fucking bird, it's like it's possessed, it needs a fucking exorc-

Exorcism.

The crow turns to dust, spreading in the air and dissipating.

That proves it. That proves this was the word Joanna didn't want me to remember!

"Exorcism," I whisper. Hearing it back feels so surreal, as if I hadn't thought of the word for years until I suddenly came across it again, shocked to still remember its meaning. Which is…

I can't remember. I know it has something to do with ghosts and getting rid of them, but everything else is a blur I can't make heads or tails of, even if I had to have known what it meant just moments ago when it popped into my head. This must be more of Joanna's doing. But as long as I can remember the word, I can find out its meaning through some other means… so I need to make sure I'll remember!

I snatch the knife off the ground. Exorcism. I clean its blade on my shirt. Exorcism. I raise my left palm up and bring the blade to the skin. Exorcism. I drive the tip in. Strings, yeah, too bad, live with it. I carve an E. Then an X. Then O, R…

What’s the word I’m writing, again? Exor... cism. That’s it. Nice try, Joanna. I carve the rest on another row - C, I, S, M.

There. EXORCISM. Doubt I’ll forget it’s there, and if I do, the pain will quickly remind me.

Gods! Yes! Finally, something goes right! There really is still hope. There’s still hope that I’ll get rid of this mental tumor and live to tell the tale. Or keep quiet about it, rather. If the cops haven’t found out the truth by now, I have to make sure not to tell a soul about any of this. If they have found out the truth… well, it’s something I’m gonna have to deal with then. Right now, getting Joanna out of my head is top priority.

Sighing in relief, I tuck the knife back inside my jacket. There’s blood on it, but it’s my own. It’s no crime to bleed.

I take a moment just to breathe. Listen to my surroundings. Rustling trees, faraway traffic… no pippirets.

I look around, and indeed, I see no pippirets. I wonder if they were part of the illusion. That first pippiret did seem real when I checked it, but I couldn’t tell if its words were. Then I got distracted by all the other ones and the rabid crow… I guess I’m gonna have to return here after Joanna’s gone to check.

As for the cops… I guess I’m gonna have to play it safe and just assume there are people after me. Still, I have to leave these woods to get the information I need. The best place for that would be the library. Thank the Gods it’s not far from here. I should be able to slip in and read what I need without alerting any cops. I just have to be careful. Not just about cops, but Joanna’s illusions, too. Gods. Things will be so much easier once she's gone.

Feeling surprisingly confident, I leave the opening and begin walking back the way I came.

Somewhere, a pippiret chirps.