A Place of Terror

[Darth Morrow]

The story brought an even more wicked smile on the woman's face, not something often seen. To hear the promise of this girls past life did put a bit of hope to bring a new sith to darkness indeed.

"Passions come and go in times of strife, but perhaps trying another sort of first step could light a fire in that heart that once was, yes?"

Turning her gently the woman began leading her back down the hall, a brief nod offered to the apprentices as the door to the room closed with a loud slam, they returning to practice and Morrow returning to hunting prey. Continuing her barrier on the plaguing thoughts she kept her hand on Evelynn's shoulder as she was led through the depths of the maze of a ship. Unnoticed to her Morrow wiped a hand across her nose every so subtly, a drip of crimson staining her porcelain skin and quickly hidden from view.

As the duo approached another door it could be noted this one had no handle or visible seem, just an inlet in a metal wall like all of the others. Letting go of the girls shoulder for a brief moment Morrow placed a hand against the steel, the door melding and dripping into the steel already present and now a bar on the wall of where the door once was.

Inside the room was a brightly lit interior, the smell of polished metal filled the air, yet also the presence of blood. Though her thoughts were still muddled, this room would be enough to bring any true Sith a bit of enjoyment, as on the table was strapped a thinner man with blue and tan robes, aside him a collection of implements. On the far end of the room rested a table with two chairs and a mug of some sorts resting on it long forgotten.

On the mans head was an interesting device that wrapped around the skull, and four sharp prongs pressed against both temples and the back of his head, from it could be heard the faintest whirring. On his neck, a tight metal collar of sorts. For the moment, he seemed relatively unconscious.

"This of course, is your other option. Whichever gives you more sense of joy is a good place to start." The woman kept a supporting arm on Evelynn's shoulder, the same sense of calm still filling he mind yet the creeping sense of excitement ever so present.

A chance to satiate the need.

[member="Evelynn"]

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Mercifully it would not be this day that Evelynn Zambrano had to face the prospect of physical combat. In the world of the Sith Empire it would be unavoidable, but at the very least it could be prolonged for as long as possible. After all what would happen after the first blow? The first instance of pain? She knew. She knew that her desire would crave more, and then all semblance of a fight would be over.

Instead she was guided once more down the hallway, taking the moment to simply be thankful that such a potential trauma was to be avoided for the time being.

Little thought was given towards what was to come next, instead the relative calm of her mind was something to instead be savoured. It might have been more prompt to wonder why there was a form of inner-peace here. This place? This woman? Why? There were questions that Evelynn should have been asking herself but the relief was so great that it displaced all sense of logic and self-preservation.

Then came the familiar scene.

Memories stirred at the sight and smell of interrogation chamber. Tales of the Twin Sisters of Rattatak were re-spun within her head and yet still she did not lose herself. All prior instances of the past had been difficult and were triggers for her insanity, but here it was comparatively still.

A chance to satiate the need.

“There is no harm in trying, I suppose,” Evelynn offered before a small pause, a glimpse of trivial mirth flashing upon her features as she realised the error in her words, “ah, no harm for us, at least.”

There was an urge there, and it was not one of her own madness. As she observed the prisoner the Emperor's daughter couldn't help but deny the want the share the gift of pain as she had done all those years ago. However it was not that same want that plagued her, it was both controlled and measured and not based on pure maddening impulse.

Maybe this method of therapy would really work.

Fairly standard torture implements were laid out in blatant invitation. Things to cut, to burn, to brand, to tear, to crush, to poison and more. A distinct lack of muscle maggots but admittedly her past self had been rather niche in method.

A blade would do nicely to start. Something to slowly ease herself back into the swing of things, as it were, and so the surgical edge was plucked from the tray.

“You should remain vigilant, My Lady,” the girl spoke delicately as she approached the table, head tilting as she absorbed the apparent Jedi with her eyes, “I may turn this blade upon myself at a moment's notice if I become too,” her free hand flicked the man between the eyes, hoping to rouse him from his stupor, “...excited.”

What was this? A return to form? The return of The Silent Sister? A small smile, the very edges of her teeth bared in observation. Why did she feel this way now? Why did this prospect fill her with ever-growing enthusiasm?

“Do you know how to deglove a human hand, My Lady? If not then I can show you, if I have not lost my touch, that is.”

-

[member="Darth Morrow"]

 

[Darth Morrow]

There was a smile still present on her lips, though not one of joy; this smile was of malice. Seeing the girl slip so comfortably back into her old self for a brief time put a light to Morrows goals. Perhaps she could be of use after all if she had a small shove of assistance. Though Morrows own mind filtered the insanity briefly it was only a matter of time before her grip was lost, her head throbbing as no active influence ever performed lasted so long.

Snapping from her stupor she looked up to see the tools already grabbed and the role being slipped into quickly, a sight she was momentarily proud to see.

With the tap of a hand the man opened his eyes once more, groggy and clearly already worn down there wasn't as much fear in his eyes as more of a hollowness, but it was there, deep down inside. Walled by his so called "Jedi peace".

"I don't believe I have ever had the joy of learning such a feat. I've never been one for the delicate arts of torture in truth. I prefer outright breaking an individual. Though if you'd be so kind I'm sure this young man would appreciate a demonstration." The smile tugged at the edges of her lips through pain, the facade of her power still holding true even in such a tired state.

[member="Evelynn"]

 

[Beatrice Govan]

“I am quite aware of that,” Evelynn replied softly, a small notion of amusement held in her voice, “as I recall it only took you a single blow to break half of my body.”

Had the Sith Lady not instead chosen to attempt to end her life the Emperor's Daughter pondered how much more punishment she could have taken, and then swiftly decided not to indulge in such thoughts, it would only have been fuel for the maddening fire.

The first cut came, her hand slow and methodical in its movement, as if she had not forgotten a single thing. Like fitting perfectly into old clothes. The man groaned, a familiar sight of gritted teeth in the face of pain being presented to them. As the crimson began to flow from his wrist, the clone spared him a small glance.

“Screaming will help somewhat,” she advised impassively, like a doctor giving general health advice, “or you can risk shattering your own teeth. That is your own choice.”

Naturally he did not take the girl's advice on, he did look a touch ragged, perhaps he wasn't even aware that they were there. Oh well, he soon would.

“I had a mantra,” she continued, addressing the Sith Lady while displaying a keen artistry with a blade as precise incisions were made to separate the upper layers of his flesh from the underlying muscle, “pleasure in pain,” the words themselves giving rise to the very addiction that haunted her second existence, “I taught myself to embrace my suffering, to learn how to enjoy it” another glance was given to the presumed-Jedi as if he ought to have been listening, “and it aided me through many times of strife.”

There was a smile in her voice as the flesh of his hand was slowly cut and peeled back, bit by agonising bit. Nostalgic, but also caught in the present, ever eager for more. She had forgotten how pleasant it all felt.

“To inflict, and to receive. It became so fascinating, so exciting. I sought to learn as much as I could about pain.”

The process was about half the way through now, and the man still insisted on clenching his idiotic maw shut, strained cries whistling out from the gaps in his teeth like a distressed kettle. Oh, he would learn the error of his ways, and he would learn swiftly.

“However it became an issue,” Evelynn spoke quietly, not wishing to delve further into the details of the why, or rather the who, “and now I find myself in a second life being devoured by such a desire. The Force has a rather twisted sense of humour, I cannot deny that. I do not know if it is a form of punishment or if it is simply now what defines me.”

At last the procedure was complete, the flesh of his hand fully separated from all that remained below, leaving the Emperor's daughter holding a perfectly cut glove of a skin and leaving the Jedi an incredibly bloodied right hand of exposed nerves and muscle.

There was a small rise in her chest, that spark of excitement ignited but somehow not fully devolving into her regularly scheduled insanity. Yes, she craved more, but not so much that all semblance of humanity left her spirit. Of course, that wasn't to say that there was no calculated sadism at play, and very suddenly Evelynn moved to grab his now very vulnerable hand, nails digging into exposed nerves and scraping with a sickening ferocity.

Then he screamed.

“Ah, that's better, no?”

-

[member="Darth Morrow"]

 

[Darth Morrow]

The woman was taken aback for a moment, her head tilting slightly as she looked over the scene and bit her lip gently as a momentary distraction. Idiotic madness could only eat away at ones mind so long before they felt their own grip on sanity begin to slip. The opening wall between her and the bound spirit slipping as she struggled to keep both the insane thoughts at bay and the prying hunger in her own very soul. The moment came down where she had to make the choice of warding Evelynns mind or her own, and of course Morrow wasn't that considerate.

He wouldn't know if you possessed her for a short while, enough to get close.

The nails dug into the crimson skin and the hold on Evelynn's mind vanished, the only thing still held at bay even slightly were her self destructive thoughts. The scream rung through Morrows ears and it was the final cue to close off her own mind, the chances of survival slim to none if the lady held any more power than her own.

"Quite the display. Surprised you allowed yourself to work under another. You reach levels of cruelty befitting a Lady of the Sith." The smile pulled at the edges of her lips once more, though mere mask for her inner thoughts.

Could simply wear her down, no one would know if I held her mind. Wouldn't it be so easy to have her in our hands.

Volcanic eyes blinked for a long second before she glanced to Evelynn, a placid expression returning to the snow white face.

"Any other tricks you have hidden away girl? Don't worry, this one isn't special at all to me, if you mess up there's no harm done, at least not to me." Stepping over she moved closer to the table, glancing over the fine work done, the clean cuts adjacent to the nail dug marks in flesh.

[member="Evelynn"]

 

[Beatrice Govan]

A smile.

At first ordinary and polite, happily absorbing compliments of her cruelty as her gaze remained fixed upon the Sith Lady's burning embers before flicking back to the damage done to the man's hand. Look at all of that crimson. The smile began to change, lips drawn back to reveal ever-eager teeth, her tongue running slowly along the top row of those pearly whites.

“Tricks?”

Finally she let go of the captive's exposed hand, relishing the pathetic whimpers that trailed off from his prior screams. There was that look in her eyes, glassy and far away, desire growing greater, mind becoming consumed by those thoughts of pain...but not of her own.

Wasn't that odd?

“Oh yes,” Evelynn whispered, body language shifting as the girl's movements became a lot less precise and delicate and a lot more disjointed, like a puppet put together poorly, “I have so many tricks, and as it happens this one is also quite the t r e a t.”

Graceful touch lost now as she approached the man's legs, blade still in hand. With his restraints there was just enough purchase to get behind his knee, and so the cruel edge plunged with little concern or artistry into the back of his leg at his lower thigh. One leg first, and then around the table and onto the other, the girl sparing no ounce of mercy as she cut with reckless abandon, his sweet crimson staining her own hands freely in the process.

His protests while loud were futile. Another scream to join the others. Fruitless demands from a fool that did not understand the majesty of it all, that could never comprehend the notion of pleasure in pain.

“Now...”

Content with her work so far, Evelynn drifted towards the console next to the door, making the correct assumption that his restraints could be released from here. The metal braces that held him in place clicked, his movement no longer inhibited. A sudden quickness and she was at his head, the man's mental faculties worn down so much that he didn't even know he was free.

“I've let you go! Hurry now! We've got to escape,” came the urgent whisper in his ear, as a shred of hope was offered towards the worn creature. If he had cared to look, he would have noticed that the girl's face did not match his words, naught but wicked joy and malice painted across her features.

He moved from the table as well as one in his condition would have and attempted to stand, immediately falling to the ground with a delicious meaty thud.

“S i l l y boy,” she tittered before vicious laughter erupted from the clone, a harrowing, piercing cackle that spoke of untamed sadism, “you'll be going nowhere with severed hamstrings,” now she circled him upon the floor as he attempted to crawl away, a stiff boot crushing his poor, degloved hand with unrelenting cruelty before Evelynn crouched down before him, “I know, I know,” she cooed softly, still grinning with demonic madness, “hope makes you do the most foolish things.”

Doesn't it just?

-

[member="Darth Morrow"]

 

[Darth Morrow]

(x)
Unknown Location

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---

Time had passed since the day of that torture, the day Evelynn and Morrow got along so well. Since then soldiers were summoned to drag the girl back to their lord carnifex, Morrow was summoned before him as well. An attempted murder, a change of heart, a brewing hatred and an order that the ghostly woman was no longer allowed to influence the girl. However, that was only purposely. As a result of her meddling in Evelynns mind some bond was formed, while not intentional something drew the two together even if they may have wished it hadn't.

Days after the events of the Dark Lord palace Evelynn would feel the draw, late night while making any attempt at sleep. A pain deep in her chest different than the usual thrum of torture that now gripped her being, but a physical, surface pain that couldn't be described.

Closing her eyes a scene would unfold before her in the span of a second, eyes turning a volcanic orange in the moment that glowed ever so faintly over the room.

--

A darkened shadow swarmed around the ghostly woman as she held a defensive stance, turning to keep face with the spirit Morrow held sword up ready to strike. The sound filling the room sounded as a swarm of insects circling the air, thousands of small pests; though on closer inspection, it was nothing more than pure dark energy given form. Deep volcanic eyes locked on the creatures surrounded her, black lips in hardened line as the light of the room shifted faintly with the shadows.

M̤̹̱̖ỳ̪͢ ̶͉̺̦͚̖̲̕͟p̥̗̖̜͉̠̠̟͠e̼͎t̶͙͍̭̞͇͔̜͚,̧͍̞̦̜͓͇ ̤̘̻͚͓͎̖͠͠w҉̸͎̫̺̠̮̦̦͟ͅh̼͈̰̱͇͠y̞̣̟ ͚̱̯̖̗̱̺̝̥d̵҉̲̥͖o̻̜̗̱͡ ̷͓̞̻̲̜̜̪͙̺y̸̙͓͇̭̦̥̗͇o̵͎̱̖̹̗̤̯̠ͅú̡̦̯̬͍̰ ̵̤͙̲͖͚̗́a̷͕̮̺̘͜ḻ̸͇́̕ẃ̟̤͉̩̣͓̣͞ą͙̮̹̹̹͚̪y̗̪̗͓s͓͘ ̧̦̮̥̝͍̰͔̗̗͘͟f҉̧̹͔̖i̸̱͈̙g̖̞͕̥̝͓ẖ̶̻̬͖͝t҉̫̜͚̖̜̠̞̼ ͉͚͎̝m̡҉͔̰͈̠̱̟̭ͅé͓͇̳͈̠̮̺ ̷̡̠͙͔̙̟̠̗ş̱̝͖̟̗͎̬̗o҉̛͙̻̘͕͔̟̜ͅ.̗̪̮̗̞̲̠̱͡ ̡҉̠̠̳̝̗̰̝Y̻̜̬̱̙͞ͅͅo͍̩͍ų͖̮̹̪̱̞̬͕ ͇̼̳̠̯̀m̵̷̥̪̲͚̗̞͓̙a̸̷͇̮̠̩̫͔d̢̢͔͖͜e͘҉̸͔̩̼̰̼̜̖ͅͅ ̻̺͉̩͓͖͘ͅa̜̺̯̫͉̦͓̜̕͞ ͏̦̭̥̭̠̹̫g̴̸̨̘̹͓̺͈̟̼ŕ͎̺̯͓̖̪̹a̷̙͔͔͢͟v̵̩ͅḛ̱͉̖̳̠͉̮ ͔̩̟̫m͏̸̬̜̳̼͕̞͕̗i̶̡͚̤̦͔̪̘̻̼͡s̨̬͜͠ṭ̝͢͡á̢̼͖̼̱̱̻̬k̡͚͢é̦̮ ̸̴̹̟̣̥l̴̥͇̲̯̬̞ȩ̧̭̥̰ͅt̸̡̬̬̺̫̻t̷̗͙̬̥͠i̘͖̤̙n̷̠͇̖̩͔̟͈g̨̱̝̜͈͎̩͟ ̨̻͕ỳ̹̥̗̞̬ơ̘̥͚u̟͙̺r̦̭̳̙ ̧͚͇̜̺̝̲͈̕t҉̣ơ̵̴̟͚̥̮͓̞̲̯y͜҉̛̝͎̱ ̖̰͓̺̟̪̭r͚̥̮̫̥e͓̬͖͎v̮̭͔͈̥̠͎͘͟è̪̕a̸͙͇̝̫ͅl̟̹̯̞̜̘ ̶̢̺̤͉͈̫̘̹m̡̤͖̖̬͙̗͔y̢̫̲̩ ̘̠͖̹͉͙͝p҉̷͕͔̰̖͎̦͓ļ̝a̬̭̞̻̻͖̘n҉̢̮͔̳͚̪̟̖̬͟ṣ̡̦͈̺́͝.͟҉̭͙̳͇̦̖̯ ̠͞A͚̼̙c̵̢̹̼̗͇c̻̙͇ȩ̵̵̪̫͙p̧̼̻̮̼͇͘t͎̹͔̲̻ ͏̫̺ý̹o͏͇̻̬u̡̘͍͘r̳̩̗̕͝ ̢҉͚̬̭̣̥p̨̺̥ͅu̖̝͕̱̮͕̮͕n̵͓̘̦̦̟̺i̼̬͓͇̬͠ș̦̣͠h̶̵̰͓̰͈̯͝m͝͡҉̭̦̞̙͉̖̩e̴̵͏͙͓̘̫͈̹n҉̖͔͈̻̤̖͜͞t͕͚̖̗̬̹̟̖,̼̩̪͇̭̦͖̖̤͞ ̨͔̘̭̘̳̙̣̮e̺̻͉̬̲̜͍͝ͅḷ̫̣̝̹̬͘͟ş̴̲̰̫ͅe҉̪̙̥̕͢ ̨͉̪̪̮̫̘̼͈͈i͏̞̯͖͙͈̦̪͚̻ţ̷̱͉͇͈̤̤̘̼̖ ̷̡͔̰̭̭͟ͅͅẁ̮̱̣̪̫̬̼į҉̫͍̞̩̘̹̘͓̀l̠͉͙͍l̺̰̜͕̗͎̮̟̣ ̛͎̬͙̯o͏͎̥̭̤͢ͅͅǹ̷͍̮̰̦̭͍̖l̝̱̪ͅy̰̮ ͏͏̗̥͓̝́b̭̼͔͖̗̙̦e̢̠̮͚̟͡ ̖̟̜͔̙̭̯̹̖͠w̧̥̘̪͡ó̲̯͈r͍̩͓s̸͇̠̳̹ḙ̡͖͔̜̕.̗̖̪̬̙͔͜͠


The woman remained on watch, her crimson blade raised across her own form. Her clothing still tattered, in ruin. Looking at her face blood dripped from her forehead across her porcelain white skin, her arms covered in slashes and bruises.

"I've had enough of you, I will not be your puppet any longer demon." A growling tone escaped Morrows throat. As the view altered itself her apprentice could be seen lying in the corner, blood dripping from her mouth, yellow eyes unfocused looking to the floor across the room; she would have appeared dead if a hand didn't clench the cloth at her chest. "You will gain nothing from me spirit, I will no longer be a puppet for your desires-"

The voice cut off as she noticed Evelynn now standing in the room, eyes shifted quickly back and forth. "You shouldn't be here girl-"

A̼̥ͅņ̣̟̬̼͍o͉̱̹̰̗̙̥̕͝͞ṱ̢̭̰ͅͅh̵̤͖e̻͍̳͘͡r͚͓̻̳ ̨̨̖̭s͍̮̪͙̘͚̀͜a̱̘̻͕͕̗̖͟͡c̸̲̤̀r̨̜̦̣̭͇̤̤̜i̷҉͇͖̘̯f̜͓̜̮̠̼͇͡͠ͅį͢͏͚͔͔̞ͅc҉̲͘͞i͇̥͖̺͢͢ͅa͈̦̫͕̣͉̯̩͞l͇̗̮̳ ̸̗̙̻̬͖̮͎̺͎l̹̜̼͓͉̖̰̱a͘҉̭͎̞̥̲̼͡m̡͙̰̱͝͡b͏̟̮̹̳̯͙̻ ̷̹͇̗̻̮́͞f̴̛̣̖̩o͙̯̦̮͉r̸̭͓ ̶̥̙̝͉̲͕m͖̙̜͚̀y̛͏̖̙̲̱̮͎ ̢̱̰̰͍͎a̜̥r̸̢̖̹̟͟m͓͕̦̻̹̯ỵ̸̝̟ͅͅ ̛̫̲̯̀m͚͉̖͔̳̭̫̳͢͝y͓̤̱̜͖͕̹̙͜͠͝ ͔̥̼͇̜̼̩͘͡p̻̙̠͍͔̘͚̰͍e̴̘͖̣̣͕̞̝̕t̶̸̠̝̗̩͟?̡̳͡ ̙̜̘̀͘H̡͕̖̲̖o̝̼̝͔̲͙͔͍̯͡w̴̧̳̦͓̣̲̦̙͈ ̢̣͍͔̫̀͞k̨̞̫i̢̥̦̳̯̳͚͉̱n̨̤̥͇̪̬̝̗d̛̤͇̙͟ ̴͚̪͓͍̀o̡̪͓͉͡f̨̨̜͔̟̤͝ ҉̛̤͓͍̱̯y̴̛̝͓͔ͅọ͕̖͚͖u̞͓ ͚̥͔̯̟̞̲́t̬̱͕ò͏͉͟ ҉̳̗̫̹͎̪b̟͈̲̩̪̫̹r̼̞̬͓̱̟͇̙̕͝i̜̰͈̤͇͎̟͍̳͠n̬̙͕͢g̛҉̤̩̥ ̩̺̱̞̺̹̜͜ͅh̭̩̝͙͔̣̀ę̭̺͡r̨͓̗̰̱͈͖ ͏̼͈̬t͔o̸̧̖ ̸͕̣͠͝ḿ̵͖̖̼͚̝̰̠e̵̡͓̬̺̬̬͓ͅ.̷̺͙ͅ


In her moment of distraction the spirit passed through Morrow, her eyes going white as she collapsed to the floor on her knees; mouth agape before she fell to the floor hands clenched against the stone.

Ţ̢̙̝͎͕͘ͅͅh̵̰̠͔i̡̬̙̰̟̜͘s̢̨͔̖̘̗͟ͅ ̲̻̩̟͕̩̺̳ó͏͕̯̙͚̘̪̤n̜̣̞̤̥̘̭͞ḙ̸́ ͈͖̤̩̘̣̭̭͢ẃ̵̧̫͖̲͎̱̻o̡̟͍̫͙̼͈̥̤ų͎̬͔̦͔̰ḷ̢̮̗̠͡d̹͍́͢ ҉̭̖̳͙͔̹̼b͜͟҉͎̻e̢̱̞͚͓͎̪̥̘ ̡͔̤̞͔̮͚̭̭͓v̭̟̙̗͕̮͉̕͞ͅͅe̞͞r͠͏̠̥̗̳͈ỳ̷͕͎̫͔̰̻̙͖̟ ̴̵͓͔̗̟̦̻͈͙͢ͅu̞̘ͅș̼͍̀e҉̡̣͎̯͙̮̙̟͢f̨̮̬͍͎͓̩ṷ̱̠̗̖̼̲̭̲͠l͙̱͚̩̤͉̣̫̳-̳͎̼̹͕̪̠̘ ͓͇͚̞̩͚̞̕ͅE̷̙̼̘v͇̺̳é̫͍̮͞͞l̘͚̩͕͍̠̖̹͞y͠҉̦̣͡n̙̯͇͙n̷̪̤̺̘̟ ͚͓̝̘̳̟͉͍Z̸͙͈̜̼̥̺̺͍͟á̛̖͇͍̗̝m̷̥͖̖̩̝̲b̰̬̠͝r͈̣̭̝̘̀͝͞a̡̦͕̪͉̯̮̺ń̗̭̻͎͔̫̯̤́ͅo͉̻͘͟,͏͎̕ ̯̜̥̬͇̫͖̦͡d̺̺̞̜͙͢a͍̖̩̠̭̭̳̯ṷģ̢̱̼̝͔̪̣̝̯ẖ̷t̨̛̥̠͉͇͚e͏̦͉͇̼̟r̶̦̬͓̲̰̜̠̮͘ ̲̗͚̬̙͝A͚̯͢ͅŃ͖͍͝D̶̡͎̬̗ ̭̺̥̮̝̞ͅą̷̻͔̜̪͔̜p҉̡̥̬̙̫͜p͏̛̼̖̫̱͎͉̘r̴̟͎̠̫̠͖̠͉͟e͉͈̝͢n̮͙̞t͏̸̰͙̙̳͇̫̮í̲̦͚̘̬̦̗͞c̵̮͈͙̙̭͔̩̩ę̞̣̰̫ ̣̥̙͟͠t̯̺̩̤̖̹̜̀̀o̡̥͍͖͓͍̻̫̜ͅ ͓̱t̛̮̤̼̹ḫ̨͉͝e͍͈͞͞͝ ̶҉̦̟͚̱̘̮̮ͅĘ̟͇͔̳͘͞ḿ̨҉͖͓̬̮p̤̣̬͖̹͕͓͝ͅe҉̙̤̻̝̱͚r̥̱͕̞̘͇̲͢ơ̩͓̟̼̲̯̪r̦̯͈̻̗̲̼͢͠.̛̙̲͙̖̭̘̪̹ ͓̣̺̹͞͝͠S̷͓͍̯͡͡h̘͕̟̞̝̪͠o̤͔̮u̴̟̱̪̦͢ḽ̴̸̼̯̻d͏͢҉̤̫̜̗̗ ͎͍̦̹͖͙͖̝͘h̺̻͎͔̫̫̺a̫̳͚̣ͅv͍͚͓̕e̤̕ ̢͖̼̞̞̝̤̩b̗̪̤̀ŗ҉͙̤̘̤͚̱̮o҉̘̖͢u҉̜̙͙̪̟ͅģ̵͚̦͓h̨̩͙̠̠ṭ̪̲ ͏̛̭̳̣̥͜h̶̟͎̀e̺̻̲̪̗͚͢͠͝r̢̘͙͍͙̤̥͈̣̘͠ ̡̨͍̹̞̗͚̮͘t̡͙̻͙͉̭͔̺o̴͔ ̙̣́͟͟m̡̨̜͖͓̠̜ȩ̺̞͖̲͓͎̜̕ ̰̦̠̕s̨̜̱͙͎͉̠͇o͓̬͟ơ̡̻̙͈͍̞͍͠n̵̨̼͕e̤̙̘̹̩̟̜͝r̠̙̪̪̻̖̠̜͠ ̜̪̹͙̥̞͟s̫̻͉͚̙͟l̢͉̫̗͡a̟͙͇̦v͘͏̞̺͎e͏͕̩̤.̸̧̹̺̱̭̤͕


"E-Evelynn stop w-watching nOW!" Ripping out the other side of Morrow the spirit would move to where Evelynn stood, just before it made contact the girl would blink, the scene before her now only the darkness of her own room.