John was scared.

So, so, so scared.

Father Allred had told him it would be alright if he just listened–just listened to his instructions, to his words, to his guidance. It had gone so well, which meant nothing had gone wrong at first.

And then, when it inevitably did go wrong, it went very wrong.

He wasn't sure how it happened, he had left the basement for all of a minute to escort the Martins back out. A minute too long it seemed, because now all he had was himself...

...and you.

"Hail Mary, full of grace," he muttered to himself, his hands shaking near uncontrollably as he stumbled around in the dark of the Martin estate's basement.

"The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."

His hands steadied for a moment, John's resolve poking through the veil of near concrete terror that had overcome him. You were there, you were, and yet he found that fact not as comforting as he hoped it would be.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of death," he continued, before with a shaky, shallow exhale, he reaffirmed himself, "Amen."

John turned to you, after a moment, his golden crucifix held tight in his grasp. It was the only thing keeping you two safe, or at least, it made you two feel a bit safer. Amy was gone from the chair, gone, the ropes and such used to hold her in place snapped as if they weren't even there.

"We...we need to find her...we need to finish this, before...before something bad happens."

He sounded as if he was telling himself this, more than you.

John knew you, and he knew you probably didn't need such convincing, but he did. This was his first exorcism afterall–as a disaster as it was. It was almost funny just how wrong things had gone.

Almost.

"...are...a-are you ready?"

He needed you to be, because he wasn't sure if he was ready himself. Father Allred's words had calmed him in his initial unease, though now he had only yours and his.

And he couldn't entirely rely on his own words.