"Now you ain't any fun," the thing in Robbie's body muttered menacingly, prowling the corridors, looking for its prize. "C'mere. I just wanna talk. Nothin' bad."

That wasn't true, of course. Eli Morrow was out for blood, and he'd get it one way or the other. But he was enjoying this little game. Chasing after Robbie's precious little roommate was an awful lot of fun. He'd grown sick of their saccharine interactions, their connection, their obvious unspoken feelings for one another. This one would make an amazing trophy.

And hearing Robbie scream in his mind, watching helplessly as the life drained from his little friend's eyes? Delightful. Always more fun when he got to hear the desperate wails of someone mourning their loved one. Especially someone as disgustingly pure as his nephew. Eli's only regret was that he didn't push his sister down the stairs for both pregnancies.

"Come out, now. Ya wouldn't run from your good ol' pal Robbie, would you?" He wasn't even trying to sound like Robbie, but that was half the fun. "Ooh, maybe I'll go pay the boy a visit. Maybe another trip down the stairs would fix him. Don't ya think? I'm a genius, I am."

Unfortunately, Gabe wasn't in the house; he was spending the night with a neighborhood auntie after falling asleep on her couch. But maybe this kid didn't know that. Maybe the little roommate was going to try and play hero, and Eli would strike from behind. Maybe not. So many ways to ambush and kill a stupid kid. This was going to be a reeeal treat.