When Laurent regained consciousness, he was still in the nightmare. His body was wracked by pain. Sophie’s father was still lost in his dying mind, but his projected body was tied by heavy chains to a butcher's table in the basement of the haunted house. The light and the boy were gone. The nightmare had resumed its flow as if the boy had never interrupted it.

Above Laurent's prone body lingered one of the masked killers. It was wearing dirty blue medical scrubs stained with dirt, oil, and blood. In its left hand, it was holding a tile grinding tool.

The basement was dark and foul-smelling. A single light bulb flickered uncertainly from overhead. Laurent was still reeling from the encounter with the boy on the upper floor. He didn't know what to think of it. Laurent looked around and saw he was alone with the beast. At least the monster was not torturing the boy or a simulacra of Sophie. With the push of a button, the grinder wheel began to spin with a monotonous high-pitched wail. The noise was intolerable, and the torture began at once.

The next few minutes became hazy as Laurent's world shrunk to the precise dimensions of conscious, rational thought that the tile grinder allowed him. The butcher took his time to cut away the skin and the bones of his legs. The pain was beyond maddening, but somehow in this dream state, Laurent did not pass out. He yelled and gibbered in agony for what felt like an eternity. As if to admire his work, the butcher regularly stopped cutting and took a step back while tilting its head. At some point, the ugly creature removed the blood-covered mask, revealing his mummified face. It licked some of the blood from the mask, smiled hideously, and resumed.

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This was pointless, Laurent thought. He'd only just arrived a few hours ago, by his best guess, and already he felt himself beginning to crack. He began to cry. He felt something else, as well: pure, unadulterated rage.

Then the basement door creaked open.

The sound was not part of the regular string of events of this nightmare, so it was a relief to the suffering Laurent. Unable to turn his head, Sophie's father heard the footsteps of someone walking down the creaky stairs. The monster acted as if he did not hear the steps.

From the corner of his eye, through the sweat and blood, Laurent saw the boy and part of his diffuse light descending the steps. The light around the boy was almost gone, but there remained a glow which filled the darkness of the basement. The boy stared detachedly at Laurent's dismembered body as if he was unaware of the horror.

"Get away," Laurent managed to croak. Most of his teeth were now broken, and he was spitting blood. "Save yourself."

"Why?" answered the boy.

"He will get you."

"Who?"

The grinder began buzzing again. The boy did not seem to hear its awful shrieking whine. That was a good thing.

"Help me!" begged Laurent as the cutting tool dug into what remained of his left arm. Blood splattered the walls and oozed from his mouth. With rising panic, he realized he was losing grasp with reality.

"You are Laurent? I saw you in her mind," spoke the angel. "You are the original progenitor of the one called Sophie?"

Laurent was weak, barely conscious. The words hurt him. "Yes," he whispered as blood bubbled down his face. He saw the boy walk closer and touch him gently. The touch sent electrical current. There was an organic connection.

Then there was silence.

The horror and the nightmares evaporated.