IMPORTANT NOTE: This ending is slightly different. I won't go into too much detail. All I will say is that this a different way that Chapter Five could have ended, and instead of rewriting all of Chapter Five, this will be short and picking up right where it's different. Also, this chapter may be a bit descriptive for some readers, so this is your warning.
"Everybody seems to be worried about you. Everybody. I can't have you being found by any of them, not while I can do something about it."
Before I have time to speak, I feel his lips on mine once again. My mind is reeling, trying to figure out what he's talking about. When he pulls away, I hear him mutter what sounds like an apology. I can't process what's going on until I see a flash in my peripheral vision and suddenly feel something sharp and cold stop abruptly at the side of my neck, nicking my skin.
I didn't understand why he abruptly stopped his attack, but I wasn't about to give him a chance to finish the job. I immediately reached up, grabbing his arm and tearing it away from my neck. With the adrenaline from the realization that I might just die, I managed to twist his arm enough that he dropped the knife, I released his arm and immediately seized the blade. Not once did I take a moment to look at him, nor did I give him a chance to take the knife back. In a panic and without a thought, I take the knife in both hands and thrust it forward, closing my eyes tightly as I felt it sink into something.
I hear a wet cough and something warm fall onto my hands. I look up to see a look of shock and utter horror on Seán's face. Something seems... different, though. His eyes were their usual bright blue. No green tint to the irises. What I hear him clarifies exactly what I'd been wondering, "(Y/N)...? Why di-" He's cut off by another cough and more blood falls onto my hands as he doubles over. I let go of the knife, the sharp metal protruding from his stomach. Blood has begun to seep around the wound that was made. That I made.
"Jack?" I manage to croak out, my throat tightening. He had snapped out of whatever had made him act so horrible. At least, he appeared to have snapped out of it. I see him look towards and open his mouth to speak again, only to turn his head down and double over, and collapse. I'm in too much shock to do anything myself.
When I manage to snap myself back into reality, I quickly turn to one of the drawers in the kitchen and grab the first cloth I can find. I turn back to my injured friend. I help him lean against the cupboards before turning my attention to the knife that remained lodged in his abdomen. I reach for it and grip the handle, screwing my eyes tightly shut. I yank, pulling the knife out only to hear a pained cry from Jack. I forced myself to open my eyes and I just stare at my hands as they move to put pressure on the wound, which appeared to be bleeding heavily and hopefully staunch the bleeding. I didn't think I'd gotten him anywhere vital, but the amount of blood there was said otherwise.
I feel my eyes burn, and all I can muster out is a simple, "I'm sorry when you... when you attacked me... Please... please don't die." I look up at him as I say that, and the sight of the blood dripping down his chin from his coughing finally brought the tears to my eyes.
He gives me a confused look before something seems to register after a moment and a look of horror and realization crosses his face. It was as if he'd never noticed what he'd been doing until now. He tries to speak, but only manages to say, "I did all of that didn't I?" He breaks down into another coughing fit.
Things go silent except for his pained breathing and my silent sobs that gradually reduce into nothing but uneven breaths. I keep my hand pressed firmly over the wound up until I feel a sharp pain in my start. I press a hand to my forehead, feeling too much pain in my head for me to care about the warm wetness that touches my forehead as I do so.
Then the pain is gone, and all I can feel is numbness. I can't feel the warmth or the wet feeling of the blood on my hands and face. I can't feel the cloth that has become soaked by now by the blood that has seeped through it, and I can't feel the hard tiles underneath me where I sit. My breathing has returned to normal, no signs that I had just been crying in the way I'm breathing. I try to move my arm, yet nothing happens. All of a sudden I hear a low giggle, and although it's not me, it's... my voice, though it's not at the same time.
The giggle grows louder until it becomes a laugh, one of pure joy, yet absolute insanity. Then it stops abruptly and although I can't see it myself, I can tell that the expression on my face has twisted into a threatening, yet amused one. This has caught Seán's attention, and despite the tired, pained look that still lingers in his eyes, yet another look of confusion enters his gaze, as well as one of concern and worry. He manages to cough out, "What's wrong?"
I hear myself speak, yet I'm not the one doing it, "Well Seán, it's been fun. You've been a very 'cooperative' host, but I think it's about time you hurry up and expire so we can both be done with this."
Seán chokes out another question, "Wha... What are you talking about, (Y/-" A look of realization and recognition crosses his extremely pale features as if he something about my voice is familiar.
He doesn't have another chance to speak before I see my hand dart to the knife and thrust it into his chest. Before the blade has a chance to sink into his chest, I try to close my eyes again, not wanting to see this. Despite this, I'm not allowed to just close my eyes and look away. It's not that simple, no matter what I do, I see everything that goes on around me. I can see it where I close my eyes, the image playing on the back of eyelids almost like a film at a cinema. So I see every detail as the blade digs itself deep into his chest. I hear him let out another pained cry, which only gets louder when I watch my hands twist the blade within his chest before tearing it back out and stabbing into his chest again.
Before long, I'm looking on as my hands continue to stab into my friend and I'm listening on as my voice laughs maniacally. Blood having managed to splash onto my face and clothing and up my arm and legs, I try my best to take my eyes off of the limp corpse of my closest friend.
"Why am I doing this?! What's going on?!" I yell to myself when I can't take it anymore, only hearing it echo around me for a moment. Everything goes silent then for a moment before I hear my own voice, familiar but so very strange, answer me.
"You shouldn't be able to comprehend what I'm doing. Oh well. Looks like I get to the privilege of torturing my new toy even more."