[b]Kyle Messor[/b]

Kyle listened to the conversation with noticeable, uncomfortable interest. Kyle was there when the girl died, of course. It happened weeks before she appeared by the lake. Nobody knew her fate until it was far, [i]far[/i] too late. But they didn't even know the half of it.

Kyle, unfortunately, was in the business of knowing every excruciating detail. He is cursed in particular by his knowledge of Helen Schwartz. [i]I've never seen something so... evil,[/i] he thought, gravely. Reluctantly, he began to reflect on what he knew of that fateful day.

The day was December 21[sup]st[/sup]; early in the morning (or late at night, depending on how you see it). Schwartz had been missing for nearly a week, and everyone on campus was feeling uneasy. When Kyle woke up in the middle of a deep slumber, his first thought was that he couldn't believe he had just woken up. He was in the middle of a... dream, and he was about to – well, nevermind that, actually. Then he recognized the familiar, tugging feeling in his gut; he knew someone was about to die, and he had to be there when they did. [i]Hurry up you dolt,[/i] the voice that Kyle hated so, [i]so[/i] much growled in his mind. [i]This is no time for erotic dreams.[/i]

Kyle blushed involuntarily at Death's brash statement, although it was decidedly dark in his room, and more importantly empty of anyone but him. Without another moment's delay, he strode over to the window, pushed it open, and climbed onto the ledge. Closing his eyes, the skin dissolved from his face; shadowy wings sprouted from his shoulder blades, and the shadows in his room gathered to form a matching cloak. At this point, Death mostly took over at this point, as it always does. He leaned forward, falling out the window and with a flap of his most bizarre wings, he began to fly.

"Where are we headed?" Kyle asked the voice. [i]To a basement. Not far,[/i] it replied simply. They soared the rest of the way in silence, and when they landed Kyle could tell something was amiss. Silently, Kyle – piloted by Death – opened the basement entrance and climbed down the stairs, closing it behind him. The scene that lay before him... you'd think it was a real life horror story. And you'd then be surprised by just how correct that description turns out to be.

Lit candles on the floor formed a circle, and in the center was... [i]oh god.[/i] It was the missing girl from school. Helen Schwartz. She was chained by the wrists and ankles to the floor, in the spread eagle position, with runes etched into her skin. Her face bore a twisted expression; it was clear she had been crying, but lost the energy to cry long ago.

And it was for good reason that she cried, for she had been subjected to the worst suffering imaginable. A human couldn't begin to understand what exactly she went through. To Kyle, though, it was clear, too clear. She had undergone severe [i]spiritual[/i] torture. Examining her more closely, it became apparent that although her body was spread-eagle, her soul – what was left of it – was in the fetal position, begging for it all to be over.

But nobody was there to hear the begging. No, when poor little Helen died, she was very much shattered; very much alone. Kyle kneeled down and picked up her soul, and was deeply disturbed by it. [i]She was definitely... supernatural, but... I don't know. Her soul was so fucked up when she died, I have no idea what she could possibly have been. There were runes covering what was left of her soul, the same ones etched onto her physical body. It was by far the most disturbing pickup I've ever done,[/i] Kyle thought in hindsight, sighing.

Bringing himself back to the present, Kyle attacked his breakfast, inwardly demanding that it distract him from his dark thoughts. Of course, his pancakes failed to respond, instead oozing it's maple syrup onto the plate lazily. Kyle sighed again, this time at the pathetic display of his pancakes. He turned to his bacon, hoping they would put up a more valiant effort.

His bacon didn't dissapoint. Of course, bacon could never dissapoint [i]anyone,[/i] besides perhaps a vegetarian. [i]Or a pig,[/i] Kyle thought dryly. Realizing he was talking to his breakfast as if it was his opponent in a duel, he shook his head, pushing the absurdity past him.

Looking up again, he found himself gazing at Jamie, and immediately he remembered his current predicament, which his predicament of the previous year had distracted him from. He offered to Jamie a cold, warning glare. [i]Don't,[/i] he mentally warned. Of course, even as he did so Kyle knew that it would only serve to challenge him. [i]And look where that took me last time,[/i] Kyle grumbled to himself as he began to pick at his food once more.