"How do you like that,
you sick little freak!
You had it comin' to
you! ... These clothes
are disgusting! Get
'em out of my sight!"
"I know. It'll be perfect
to wrap his body in."
"Hold it, hold it. I think
I'll keep that one for
myself..."
"You! You snooping
around here again!"
"Hold it, I think I'll keep
that one for myself!"
"Get your ass out of
here before you
really piss me off!"
"Hold it, hold it, hold it!
Hold it! I think I'll keep
that one for myself!
Hold it, I think I'll keep
that one for myself!"
Click. Silence.
Henry stared. The casette tape didn't make any more sense, no matter how many times he listened to it.
"What are you trying to tell me, Walter?"
And then it was quiet, like Henry was waiting for the radio to answer him. It wouldn't be unusual, not in this apartment. Not in a place where the peephole in his front door mysteriously bled, or where bodies of dead cats were found in his refrigerator wrapped in bloody dress shirts, or where walls crumbled to reveal holes to other nightmarish worlds.
No, not here.
However, Henry received no answer, and the apartment was left silent.
Silent, except for the clattering of the windows that indicated that the haunting was getting slowly worse. Silent, except for his pounding headache that indicated that he was slowly losing his mind.
Through the hole again, then.
To where Eileen was waiting for him, a fearful attempt at a welcoming smile on her tired and pale face.
The forest faded in around him; the quiet, yet incessant ringing of crickets replacing his shuddering windows and ringing telephone.
Headache was still there, though.
Eileen hugged his neck with her uninjured arm, an action that made him stand fearfully rigid in shock and surprise. As she pulled away, he returned her weak, nervous smile, before it faded off her face.
"We have to find a way out of here, Henry."
He nodded. Amen to that.
But still... his mind was elsewhere. It felt as if he had taken his body through the hole and left his mind back in his apartyment. It felt as if he were slightly pulled away, watching himself from a spectator's point of view, though he couldn't see anything but Eileen in front of him, worried, shaken, upset.
"Yeah... we'll find a way. Don't worry."
With that, Henry began to move, Eileen tenatively following after him. The trees were thick, and Henry found himself frustrated that he could not see through them. If there were any monsters, they'd be able to attack first...
But this part of the forest seemed silent, at least for now.
Eileen stopped to read a section of the familiar blood-red writing that she had discovered on a nearby stone, and Henry wandered slightly ahead before turning back to listen, bored of the translation process.
Eileen finished reading, looking up to Henry.
"Who do you think could have--" She stopped, her eyes widening in fear. Henry, confused, noticed that Eileen was focused on a spot behind his shoulder.
What the hell...? And the he realized what that fearful look meant.
Oh. Shit.
Henry didn't even want to turn around. He was too afraid. But he could feel the warm breath on the back of his neck, could feel Walter's lips brushing his ear.
"I think..." Walter's coated arm went around Henry's waist, and Henry felt the cold barrel of Walter's revolver on his temple. "...I'll keep this one for myself." Walter whispered, and the last thing Henry heard before the butt of the gun came over his head was Eileen's piercing, frightened screams mixing with the blonde man's insane, cackling laughter.