Author's Note: Fan Of Game's suggestion: related to the first chapter, Cold Blood, featuring Daniel, Mr. Scary, and Sherringford the miller (who is my OC and I own him xD)

Disclaimer: Apply the usual here; copyright goes to Frictional Games.

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Seeing Is Believing

There was one time that Brennenburg seemed to me like a haunted house, with unspeakable horrors lurking in its shadows as opposed to the home to a prestigious baron that it was supposed to be. One of the prisoners, Sherringford the miller, opened my eyes if just for an instant, but I did not heed his warnings.

It was one of my first nights patrolling the cell areas that time. It was the second night after the first warding ritual; I had not yet become who I would with time. As usual, there barely were any disturbances. What did call my attention was how loud somebody was shouting and crying, begging for their life and complaining in pain, and then there was a loud slam at the end of the hall. I hurried onwards. I did not see anybody around, but whoever had been there had caused great fear, for most of the prisoners in that area were shaken and awestruck.

The cell that had been slammed closed was Sherringford's, whom I found curled up on the floor with his face a mask distorted by horror. He was weeping uncontrollably, nursing his wounded arm and praying. I laid the lantern on the floor, knelt beside him and reached out to touch his arm. I had not even grazed him when he bolted upright, staring at me with eyes wider than saucers. He seemed to relax when he saw I was not he or she who had caused him such distress, but nevertheless his tears kept flowing.

"It's… it's you…" he breathed out, eyeing me with relief.

"Who did that to you?" I asked, gesturing towards his arm. Sherringford stiffened. I cannot describe the rage that seized hold of him, but I can say that the man scared me.

"A monster!" he exclaimed, gripping my arm with herculean strength. I saw his wrists were swollen and had been scratched with claws much bigger than an animal's. "There are monsters here, monsters that would only be in your imagination!" He was panicking, shaking like a leaf. "There are no humans here! That thing did this to me! Everybody saw it! Please you have to get us out of here!"

How could I say no? How to explain to the man I was on Alexander's side? I could not free them… but I so wanted to.

Sherringford released me and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Heavenly Father, deliver us from evil! Deliver us, oh Almighty Lord!"

I thought about what Alexander had told me. They were wicked, their lies strong enough to fool you, but I couldn't get myself to reject Sherringford's warnings and pleads. Was there really something down there? Something as monstrous as he had described? Doubt clouded my mind: it was either believing him and betraying my only hope of survival or casting him aside and keep going according to plan. I did not know what to do.

But then, I saw it. I saw the monster that would haunt both Sherringford's and my dreams.

It was as tall as me but bulkier, deadly pale and hairless. It had scars all over his body, and patches of its skin were hanging out, revealing the flesh and bone beneath. Ropes and bandages were wrapped around its body, leaving red marks in various regions. One arm was still like a human's, but its right one had morphed into an oversized claw of thin, metal fingers.

Had it been human before? I wondered. It walked dragging its feet and moaning from time to time, and then I saw its face. I could barely keep myself from gasping. It was completely deformed: its eyes were looking in either direction, and it had no nose. Its mouth had been transformed into a horrible-looking maw: its chin reached halfway to its chest! No bones held it rigid save for its still-remaining upper mandible.

The worst thing of all was that it was walking towards us.

Sherringford released a shriek as he backed away, repeating his prayers like a madman. The monster was too close to the cell for me to make my escape unharmed. I weakened the flame of the lantern and retreated to a corner. I was a coward, but I was too scared to do anything. I didn't have the luxury of rebellion either: Alexander was my only chance of survival. I fell deadly silent.

I watched as Sherringford begged for dear life once more whilst the monster stepped inside and grabbed him again. I will never forget Sherringford's features of horror: he even looked at me and begged for me to do something, but I did not move an inch. His cries became more and more frantic until they reached the very core of my soul. By the time I reacted, it was too late: his cries had been silenced.

That night, my nightmares were worse than ever before.