The Boiled One stood quietly in the corner of the room, watching as the human stared back at it. That smile never left its face, its reddened eyes fixed on the person’s terrified face as it began to speak. “The very memory of my face will cause a manifestation of my being in the future. You will be asleep in bed. I will be there, and watch over you—” But it stopped. The Boiled One stopped speaking entirely.

Its head twitched, once, twice. The reason why was hard to pin point, but it's beating heart faltered.

There is another phenomenon. The Boiled One didn't show a reaction, but it was aware. Hyperaware. Its body stretched longer, the thin strand of hair around its mutilated face shifting with the movement. “SsSS-show yourself.” It demanded, different, stolen voices layering over each other to create its own.