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Angela doesn't attend school on Monday. Nor Tuesday. Nor Wednesday.

On Thursday, the homeroom teacher finally announces the young woman "has withdrawn from school because her father has received a job offer that involves a transfer." Her friends, who apparently haven't heard anything about it until now, are dismayed.

But Eleven?

Eleven feels like she can breathe easy once again.

This rediscovered peace must be noticeable even in the way she walks, because Henry picks up on it instantly. "Has something happened? You look… happy," he comments to her during dinner.

Eleven figures there's no reason she can't share it with him. She levitates the salt towards herself while saying: "Uh… Remember… Angela?"

Henry seems to tense up, and Eleven feels a little embarrassed knowing the awkward situation her impulsive actions have caused for him. However, the man simply replies: "I do. What of it?"

"Today the homeroom teacher announced she will no longer attend classes. Her dad got offered a new job or something, and they've got to move."

The news, apparently, has the same calming effect on him, as she notices how his once rigid shoulders instantly relax. "You must feel relieved."

Eleven lets out a soft laugh and shakes her head. "You have no idea."

Poe interrupts them with a loud "meow" that leaves no doubt about his intention: for a few days now he has been demanding dinner at the same time as them.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Eleven protests with mock exasperation.

As she goes to the cupboard to grab a can of tuna, she turns her back on Henry.

…

That's why she doesn't notice the huge smile on his face.

That night, Henry is unable to sleep a wink—a nervous energy runs through his entire being and makes him toss and turn in bed.

This is how the predator who has tasted blood after a long time must feel: to be honest, it was quite difficult for him to spare Angela. Only by thinking about Eleven—about the horrified expression that would undoubtedly disfigure her features when she learned of his actions—was he able to contain himself.

Anyway, since the dream is a distant—if not impossible—prospect, Henry opts to slip silently up to the attic.

It is here, after all, in this other dimension that only he knows, where he can show himself as he is: like a god capable of materializing his every whim with a snap of his fingers.

The creatures that first threatened him and then feared him now respond to his commands like deadly hunting dogs.

Soon, he tells himself, thinking of Eleven, who only has a couple of years left until coming of age—the arbitrary line that Henry has drawn so as not to put too much pressure on her—and discovering this new world that he has created with the two of them in mind. Very soon.

That's what he's thinking when he notices an anomaly: one of the creatures in the penultimate stage of development is resisting his orders. What's more, when Henry extends a hand toward it with the intention of forcibly subjecting it to his control, the creature recoils and flees.

The pathetic attempt at rebellion amuses him: where would it flee to in a world dominated by him?

With nothing better to do and even excited by the prospect of an impromptu hunt, Henry decides that he will follow it until it is cornered.

Unexpectedly, the elusive creature slips out of sight on several occasions, sneaking between shadows and unexplored crevices.

However, what begins as a mere way of killing time becomes something more as he continues to advance: as he abandons the limits he has explored and the landscape around him mutates, becoming darker and darker.

The darkness doesn't scare Henry, to tell the truth. No, of course not: in the past, the darkness of the attic and even that of the most remote corners of the laboratory have been his refuge, his protection.

His home, even, during those periods of most bitter loneliness.

That's why he walks without flinching, ignoring the angry red thunder and lightning that seem to lie in wait of him. Even so, he must admit that this piques his curiosity: it has been a long time since he has seen his domains with these colors.

And if the darkness and the redness catch his eye, his interest is piqued when he finally catches up with the creature, which staggers and emits something akin to a pitiful screech in front of a structure he would recognize anywhere.

Is this… my house?

Yes, it is his house, without a doubt. Or, at least, what it would look like if it had been abandoned for decades and consumed by the vines of this dimension.

Nonetheless, first things first: with a slight tilt of his head, the rebellious creature dissolves into viscera, drops of its viscous blood staining the door's tinted glass. Seconds later, the door opens following a silent order from his mind.

Henry ignores the bloody remains scattered on the porch stairs and just walks deeper into the bowels of the mansion, the wood creaking under his feet. Inside there are even more vines: these, however, do not move aside to let him pass, but rather undulate at his feet, a menacing hiss filling the already ominous air. Henry frowns: first the disobedient creature, and now this?

He doesn't bother to walk around the place: instinctively, he knows where he needs to go, and that's why he slowly climbs the stairs, determined not to let his guard down.

…

There, in the darkness of an attic that stands as a fogged mirror of his reality, a grotesque being, disfigured and plagued by horrible burn marks, rests supported by numerous vines that pierce his body as if they were medical tubes.

Still, something about the monster unnerves him: the image in front of him is familiar, after all. He has seen this before, yes, that must be it, for the being resembles…

It resembles a spider waiting for its prey.

Very slowly, the creature's heavy eyelids give way to sickly blue-white eyes that come to rest on Henry. Upon seeing him, the being inhales slowly, deeply, and lets out a cold death rattle.

"Surprising." Although he speaks in English, his voice is deep and does not sound human. Or perhaps it could be described as agonizing, something that would come out from a man on the verge of death struggling to say his last words. "Certainly… surprising."

Henry fully understands that he is in unknown territory, possibly surrounded by enemies or—at the very least—beings who refuse to submit to him for now.

But, when all is said and done, he is Henry, and that is why he places his hands one in front of the other and allows himself a dry smile as he says: "Oh, the feeling is decidedly mutual."