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The bloodied and mangled face of Christopher drew closer, and Ethan felt a cold liquid dripping onto his cheek. It was a thick, slimy substance oozing from Christopher's decaying, torn face, reeking of a foul odor. The stench, a mix of rotten flesh and the putrid scent of decay, rushed into Ethan's nostrils, reaching deep into his brain and causing the food in his stomach to churn violently. He wanted to vomit; his throat convulsed, but fear rendered his body rigid, leaving him helpless against the overwhelming stench that enveloped him.
"This face!" Christopher's voice suddenly turned piercing, like a mad beast roaring with rage, every word bursting forth with fury. "This face is all your fault!" His voice was sharp and trembling, filled with madness and hatred, creating an inescapable scene of horror alongside that grotesque visage.
Christopher's face loomed ever closer, bringing with it the nauseating odor that made Ethan feel as if his body might collapse at any moment. His breathing quickened, heart racing wildly; his legs felt heavy as lead, unable to move an inch. His eyes were filled with fear and despair, yet he could not awaken from this terrifying nightmare.
"You swore to me that this was all just an illusion!" Christopher screamed madly, his voice laced with anger and resentment, stabbing into Ethan's soul like a sharp blade. "You said it was just stress or some delusion! You have no idea—no idea how that face torments me!"
Ethan's heartbeat quickened further; cold sweat trickled down his forehead as his fingers trembled uncontrollably. He wanted to argue, to say something in his defense, but his mind was blank, all reason collapsing under Christopher's shouts.
"You don't understand! Since that day, that face has been with me forever! It won't disappear! It's everywhere!" Christopher's voice was like a curse rising from the abyss, filled with icy hatred that pierced deeply into Ethan's ears. "Every night it whispers to me, curses me, tortures me! You think this is just stress? You have no idea!"
With each accusation, Christopher's face twisted further; chunks of flesh hung limply as if being forcibly torn apart, the wet slime continuously dripping onto Ethan's face. Ethan felt his body begin to tremble; fear engulfed him like a massive wave. His throat was dry, unable to produce any sound as an uncontrollable pain and regret filled him from within.
"It watches me every day! Every day! Every minute!" Christopher continued to scream, despair lacing his voice with resentment. "You made me believe this was just an illusion while pushing me into endless hell!"
Christopher's distorted face drew even closer, the curses filled with hatred exploding in Ethan's ears: "You did this to me! This is all your fault!" His voice sliced through Ethan’s nerves like a blade, threatening to destroy him completely.
Ethan felt his sanity crumbling piece by piece under Christopher's curses. Fear and despair burned within him like flames until finally replaced by anger. Unable to endure any longer, the fire of rage erupted within him in an instant. He widened his eyes; the regret and fear in his heart were suppressed deep down, replaced by pure fury.
"Shut up!" Ethan roared back, his voice louder than he expected, filled with frenzied anger and long-suppressed resentment. "This is all your doing! It's not my fault!" As he shouted, he swung his fist violently toward Christopher's battered face.
His fist came down hard on Christopher’s bloodied visage with a dull thud. The sound accompanied by a wet sensation felt like striking rotten fruit. Christopher’s cheek contorted slightly from the impact as blood and slime splattered across Ethan’s hands and face; but at that moment, Ethan cared nothing for it.
"You bastard!" Ethan roared, his fist coming down once more, this time with even greater force. His anger consumed him entirely, each punch fueled by a torrent of resentment, as if he aimed to shatter all his fears and pains into pieces. "What will it take for you to just go away?"
Christopher crumpled under Ethan's heavy blows, his body weakly sprawled on the ground, eyes still gleaming with madness but unable to produce any sound. Ethan trembled with rage, lunging forward without hesitation, gripping Christopher's collar tightly and pinning him down.
"You lunatic!" Ethan screamed frantically, his fists flying as they struck Christopher's face again and again. "This is all your fault! You're the one tormenting me!" Each punch was laced with uncontrollable fury, every swing accompanied by the despair and oppression within Ethan's heart, as if he wanted to beat Christopher into hell, erasing him from his life entirely.
With each successive blow, Christopher's face became increasingly mangled, flesh rolling and skin hanging in tatters, blood and mucus splattering everywhere, transforming into a horrifying canvas that grew more blurred and filthy beneath Ethan's fists. The dull thuds of his punches echoed like the shattering of his deepest fears and pains.
"You deserve to die! Get out of my life!" Ethan shouted almost hysterically, his voice brimming with unrestrained madness. Each punch was a release of his anger and helplessness, a final counterattack against the dark days that had tormented him.
Ethan lost track of time and sensation; he had no idea how many punches he had thrown. With every strike, Christopher's face twisted further until it completely lost its original form. That face, once belonging to his patient, had now become a grotesque mass of blood and flesh, skin, muscle, and bone shattered and torn apart, mingling with blood as indistinguishable clumps lay scattered on the ground.
Suddenly, Ethan stopped, panting heavily, his arms aching and weak. He sat up straight, eyes wide with terror as he looked at his hands. They were smeared with warm blood, thick droplets trickling down his fingers onto the floor like silent evidence of his crime. His hands trembled uncontrollably, shock and fear filling his gaze.
He struggled to calm his breathing, but his chest heaved violently; the fear deep within him spread like wildfire. Ethan's mind was a chaotic blur as he tried to comprehend what he had just done. All he knew was that his hands were covered in blood, the ground was soaked in crimson, and before him lay Christopher—unrecognizable from what he once was. That face—or rather what used to be a face—was now just a pool of blood and shredded flesh.
"What... what have I done?" Ethan whispered softly, his voice trembling beyond control. He remembered but felt frozen in place as if pinned down.
At that moment, Christopher's body suddenly twitched slightly—a subtle movement that felt jarringly out of place in the oppressive silence surrounding them. Ethan's heart lurched violently; his eyes widened as fear surged within him. Christopher's body shook in an awkward manner as if the broken shell still held a flicker of life struggling against its fate. The slight convulsions carried an eerie rhythm that seemed to mock Ethan's helplessness and terror.
"No... this can't be happening..." Ethan's voice nearly crumbled under the weight of fear; each word trembled in his throat. His eyes were fixed on that twitching body, feeling as though he had plunged into an inescapable nightmare where his earlier fury could not end this horror.
The corpse should have been still, yet Christopher’s body continued to tremble faintly like a shattered puppet controlled by invisible strings.
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