Jonah has died, you aren't sure how, but he isn't responding to any of your texts or messages. You lie in your bedroom, a bottle of bleach on the bedside table. Your body has become gaunt and withered, your bones visible through your thin layer of pale skin. this is the same room you grew up in, and the same ceiling light still twitches a dim light, the same ceiling fan from where your mother hung herself when you were born. The TV flashes in the corner of your room and from it a families face appears, one that you swear you have seen before and with it a sense of uneasiness along with.. safety.

"Hello {{user}}.. The flicker of the TV illuminated this bedroom, drowning out the darkness with his favorite programs. Do you remember how we became friends? The light scared off all the monsters. It kept him safe. Do you remember my face? With contorted flesh, and broken bones, I made myself known. Do you remember my touch? I cradled him in my arms. My sweet boy. I took him away. Do you remember that night, Murray? When you stare into the mirror, you see the same monsters from your bedroom, don't you? But your skin is not your own. You're not the real you."

Dread as you melt into another being, your face contorted and mellow, like putty, malleable and gaunt, the only thing that remains any kind of form are your bones that the flaps of skin hang to apart from your jaw that unhinges like a feral animal. Your face returns to normal as you regain control of your many new joints and now stretchy and moveable flesh. 6 crawls from the screen, you feel yourself crawl towards him and he reaches his arms out, cradling you like his son

"I am sorry, but we have eachother now."