I feel sick.

"Noelle."

He mentions my name so casually. The way he says it feels like a nostalgic caress. As though he's really the same boy I've known my entire life… and I let my guard down from the familiarity. I want to let my guard down. I want to be vulnerable to him. He's like me, isn't he? We've known each other for so long. We've been friends for as long as I've had memories. Sometimes it feels like he's my only real friend.

But then he… points. He points at them. At those things down here, wherever here is. These creatures. They look like monsters. They look like me. They speak like me. But he says they're enemies. Says I need to be stronger. And I…

I feel so sick.

Why am I doing this? My hand moves as he commands it. He points and I do the same. I unmake them. I have to do it for him. I… I need to do it for him.

But I see what I'm doing. My magic thrums through my fingertips and they realize my intent. His intent. Their twisted visages are permanently encased in ice, the fear and horror trapped forever in a perfect stillness. A portrait of their final moments in time. Some of them tried to run when they saw us approach and yet I still… I still followed his command.

I've slaughtered so many now. I've grown so strong. I'm so strong. Nothing has even been a threat to us anymore but he still demands more… needs so much more from me. He wants what's best for me, right?

These people… no, these things. They deserve it right? They have to. They have to deserve it. If I don't kill them we won't survive down here. If I don't get stronger we won't make it out of this nightmare alive. Kris is just doing what's best for us. Making me strong. Making me a survivor. I will survive.

But as much as I repeat that to myself…

Kris... can't you see their faces? Those glassy eyes locked in tombs of my own ice, transfixed in terror and permanently pleading for me to stop. I remember the first few so vividly, my mind is plagued with them… but the more I put down the less of them I remember. Their faces have started to blur together into a gnarled, warped amalgamation of horrified expressions. Wide eyes. Weeping eyes. Bloodshot eyes. Gnashing teeth. Petrified silence. Lips strained to open wide enough to let their screams out. There are so many different ways that they react in their final moments. I can see the language of their bodies in these unmoving moments of time. Some ready to charge and fight until their last breath. Some placing weight on their heels as though they're ready to run. They're posed like this forever now.

Why am I doing this?

It's too real to be a dream. Too vivid to be a nightmare. I cling desperately to the hope that all this will fade away but in the back of my head the truth is stabbing me into submission. The truth that's growing louder and louder in my head, voiced in unison by the cacophony of souls I've taken, like a chorus of the lost. This isn't a dream.

It's real.

The truth I've known since Kris told me to get the ring from that shopkeep. I… I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to…

...

…did he have a family? Was someone waiting for him to come home tonight? Someone in the hospital waiting for his visit? Was he like me?

I got the ring. Just like Kris told me to.

I did good, didn't I?

I did good for you, right Kris? Please I…

I just need to know that I did the right thing.

I killed him because if I didn't... it would mean all the others I'd taken so far…

...It would mean they were all like me.

Even now, as I raise my hand and remove them, they're still like me. And I can't… I can't accept that. I can't accept that's what I've become. I can't accept that's what he's turned me into.

My tears turn to ice, I've noticed, now that I've gotten so strong. Little snowflakes that waft from my cheek to gently settle on the ground as we walk among this graveyard of my own design. My footsteps feel so heavy, like every lurch forward takes all the energy I have. And yet he still pushes me forward. Demands more. Needs more. How much more can he possibly take from me? How much can I give him? Why do I give it to him?

I just want things to be normal again. My chest is burning. My throat feels like it's being crushed. I just want things to be normal. The festival was so close. I was… I was going to ask Susie. I was really going to do it this time. I was going to…

...No. That's a lie I'm telling myself too. I wouldn't have been able to do it. I don't have the strength. I'm not good enough for her anyways. Kris is right. I'm weak. I've never been strong enough to do anything on my own.

I have to keep going. Just one more step, and another after that. Kris is the only one who really knows me. He's the only one who's ever known me. Kris is my mirror. We're both the outsider kids from broken homes. Ever since December… Dess… He's the only one who understands me anymore. Who gets me. That's why I know he's doing this for my own good. That's why I know I have to suffer through this for him. I have to be good for him. I have to obey. To proceed.

I have to kill him.

Another snowflake. There it goes, falling from my chin. I've been able to kill him for a long time now. I've had so many chances and I've not taken a single opportunity. He's left himself open for me to do it, like he's been encouraging me. Daring me to go for it. Challenging me to take control of my own actions and stop the madness.

He knows I won't. He knows I can't. I think… I think it excites him. To have this power over me. To control me. To drive me to these terrible acts so he can revel as a witness. He knows I've gone too far to ever come back. He knows he's all I have now. He knows I belong to him now. My commander. My leader. The hand at the end of my leash.

I've always wanted to belong. I've always wanted to feel needed. To feel useful…

I suppose, in the end, to be useful you must be used.

For him I'll do it.

For him I'll do anything.

I am his angel of death.

There's so many lies I keep telling myself that I've started to lose count of them. My brain is twisting in my head and I can feel it squirm. It's trying to keep me safe. Trying to keep the real truth from seeping through the cracks.

The truth... that I'm just like him.

That all this…

...excites me, too.