Josh's mind dwelled on the night's events, replaying them over and over again. How dare they treat him that way—how dare they humiliate him? That man…he remembered the mocking smile of that nobody, of how Josh was effortlessly tossed to the ground; left there like a piece of trash. Another wave of fury raced through him.

He imagined the man's face twist in agony, begging Josh to stop hurting him; to show mercy. But no, he won't stop…he presses down on the man's arms: a scream and crack—Broken bones. He could almost taste the despair. The corners of his lips tugged into a smile. He sat there in his room, dark except for the thin line of soft moonlight that streamed in. It was enough for him to see his reflection in the mirror; the hungry grin that stretched across his face.

There was something wrong with him and he knew exactly what it was. Like a seed it had buried itself into his heart and sprouted through his being, the desire to cause pain—to see the fear, to feel the despair…and to break one's very soul. Seeing Clara helpless before him tonight had exhilarated him. He had felt a feeling that he had never experienced; warmth had charged through his whole body like electricity

It should have disturbed him but instead, it excited him. It was a drug and he was the addict. He would do anything to experience it again. He shivered again, this time not from anger but from expectation. The feeling surged through him once more, giving him energy. He pounded his fists on mirror, hard; the glass cracked and he felt a sharp sting.

He blinked and looked at his knuckles. They were torn and blood shone dark as it flowed across the back of his hand. But wait—. Josh frowned and brought his hand closer, studying his wound. It bubbled…no…not the wound but his blood. The tiny bubbles fizzed silently, bursting and forming. How could this be?

He held his hand as far away from possible. But the wound continued to gurgle. His breath became shallow and irregular and he moaned in fear and shock, toppling backwards. His chair hit the floor, shattering the silence that enclosed his home and he collapsed onto the floor, shaking and holding his injured hand.

"Josh darling, what happened?" His mother called from across the hallway.

The fears had roused his mind, dissipating the forces that had cajoled his mind to obey and prevented him from questioning. Josh felt as if he had just been awakened from a long dream. What had happened? What had he been thinking? As he prodded his mind for answers, the memories flooded back, and he closed his eyes, clutching his teeth feeling the bile raise in the back of this throat.

"Josh?" His mother called again. He pulled himself unsteadily off the floor, using his desk for balance.

"I'm all right mother," he shouted, his voice felt weak and shaky.

A piece of paper on his desk fluttered onto the ground and a gentle breeze ruffled his hair, caressing his skin. His eyes followed the small movement and then he frowned, his unconsciousness realizing that something was wrong. The window was closed.

His skin prickled. He sensed a presence in his room he could not describe. It gave off a foul aura and it smothered him; crushing him. His hands clenching the desk tightly; his chest felt tight, he could not breathe, and he could not move.

Something…no…someone was behind him. He did not know how but felt it taste his terror, savoring it—feeding upon it.

Terror froze him but his need to know what it was allowed him to slowly raise his head to look at the mirror. He gazed upon his fragmented reflection, the blood that trickled there farther dividing his image. His face pale and gaunt with dazed frightened eyes stared back at him. But what captivated his attention was the thing behind him.

A shadow, no…it was darker than a shadow. It stood in the moonlight yet it reflected no light. Instead, it seemed to swallow it. It was of pure blackness, curved into the shape of a man. It had holes for eyes and mouth, transparent; he could see part of his desk through them.

He stared at it with horror and morbid fascination. He wanted get away and sought to retreat to the inner recess of his mind but its whispery voice prevented him.

"Rarely does one break from my control. Ah, it would have been entertaining to just watch and see you fall into despair, slowly. The hope and fall would have been sweeter. Unfortunately, I am short of time," It voice sounded in his mind, vibrating through his body, "Regrettably, I will have to do this."

Before Josh could react, it stretched its hand into him—the whole length of its arm disappearing into his back. Josh's eyes bulged and he opened his mouth. He felt the arm, like a hot branding iron, enter his body and reach for his heart…. Every part of him flared with pain. He was agony itself, stripped of memories, emotions, everything. He screamed, but his mouth made no sound for his body was already dead—eyes bulging and mouth still open, frozen.

The thing looked at the soul and opened its mouth as if to taste the anguish. It's transparent mouth smiled as it watched the soul of Josh burn into nothing.