5.

He sits laughing, strapped in a strait jacket and somewhat alone with his back to a wall ten foot high by eight foot wide within a bright padded room of exact parameters. His hair has grown somewhat recently, a fringe comes down almost to his eyes and his smile is menacing, there are bags under his eyes for he has not slept much since he left that old Victorian house, he has not slept much since he left his wife to die.

She may have passed on though she never really left him for he can more than just sense her dark unnerving presence, he can see her almost twenty-four seven. Straight away, right after her death, she wanted revenge and revenge became the basis for her very existence, it became the basis for her return, revenge ensured that her soul would continue for as long as necessary and until such time that the vengeance could be sought and completed, and she will not rest until her task is indeed complete.

Driving away from the old Victorian house moments after having hit his wife for the final time he was sure he could see her bruised and battered living body in the back of his car just sitting there and waiting patiently. He needed to swerve his car bringing it to a halt after having turned his head right around to have a proper look into the back seat area of the vehicle where of course he saw absolutely nothing that shouldn't be there.

He was as alone in the vehicle as anyone can be though he was sure she had been there, perhaps indeed she was. With the car having stopped at an angle, he turns his focus to the house for a moment taking what he hopes to be one final look. He has become a monster and he knows it, he knew it right then and there and he has known ever since.

He had never intended to kill his wife, but it happened and there is nothing he can do to stop what has come from it, apart from surrendering himself to it that is. A maniacal smile or laugh, an admittance of what he has done, any kind of apology he can muster, none of this can aid him in escaping what surely will come his way.

Surrender, something that maybe now is worthy of actual consideration, he cannot live like this; he cannot go on like this. Sleep deprivation takes its toll and when sleep does come, she is in his dreams and in those dreams, he sees what she has in store for him, the torture, the blood, the pain, the chainsaw and the sledgehammer. There is already torture, there is already pain, but her power is not strong enough so far from home. She needs him to return to where he left her. That building, no matter how decrepit it is, is the source of all she now is.

Whatever power it is she uses to attract new arrivals to come to her, he resists it, he makes sure he resists, he resists by signing himself into an asylum, an asylum where within he resides that ten foot by eight padded cell, a room where he sits laughing while tied up in that strait jacket, for she of course is in that room with him, she is always with him, twenty-four seven.

After having left his home on that fateful night, having left his wife to die and after having regained some kind of composure he made his way to a bar. A five-mile drive brought him to this biker-like establishment. At this point it had been a little over a couple of hours since he last had a drink, and this weighed just as heavily on him as all the other events of those couple of hours had.

He had killed his wife. He may never have intended for this to happen but yeah, happen it did. Surely it had not been the ghost of his wife that he had seen in his car. His head had already been so messed up that it must be the reason he thought he saw what he had.

Within this establishment he has entered he orders a drink and sits at the bar. In the mirror behind the bar, he can see her; he can see his wife, her reflection in that mirror is as if she were standing right behind him and to his left. In this reflection she most definitely does not look like her usual self, she doesn't even look quite like how she did when he left her. Instead of being bloodied and battered, she looks dull and dark. Almost grey in colour and her dark hair draped over her now paled face.

When he sees this reflection his jaw drops, his eyes open wide, and his heartbeat quickens. He turns his head to the left but cannot see her proximity though her reflection still remained in that mirror. His drink arrives but he just stands, turns, and begins to move away. The barman calls after him but there is and will be no reply. Madness is taking him ... this must be it.

Having made his way to the restroom he sees her once again. Just as she had reflected in the mirror behind the bar, her dark image reflects in the restroom mirrors. As he moves and turns in circles, he can only see her in the mirrors. He tries to convince himself that it is the drink and the thoughts of what he has done that is somehow affecting him though he has not had a drink since before he had returned home for that final time.

He leaves the bar without either consuming or paying for that drink he had ordered. Once more he travels in his car and now, he can see her everywhere, on the roadsides she just stands and watches him pass. He passes her once, twice, three times, he is losing it, going crazy, this can be the only reasoning for what he is seeing. Madness is so very damning ... as too guilt must be.

As he is in that padded room ten months has passed and he can take it no more. Mirrors are no longer necessary; she is with him constantly and he knows this. It has to stop; it has to end and she makes sure that it does or at least that it heads in that direction. The padded cell goes dark and the door which exits the room opens. The vision of her moves out that door, he takes a moment then gets up and follows.

Those who work in the asylum have a lot on their hands. As they deal with some sort of power outage along with the havoc it creates a pathway opens up and allows him to follow the visions of his dead wife out of the building.

A little over an hour of travelling and Dean along with his new lady companion arrive close to the center of a town with which neither have previously been to. Even though that '58 Impala is still moving, albeit quite slowly, a crow flies onto the bonnet and remains there as if it is on somewhat of a mission itself.

'Stop the car' Dean tells Gwen.

Slightly confused Gwen does as she is asked. As soon as the car comes to a halt the crow takes off. Dean watches where it goes, though his attention is soon taken by something else or rather someone else. He knows that it more than chance or blind luck that has brought him and Gwen to where they are at this moment in time.

'It's him.'

'Him who?' asks Gwen.

Dean gets out of the car and begins to move off quickly. Gwen gets out and attempts to follow. She sees Dean cross a street and move towards a barefoot man wearing a strait jacket. Gwen continues to move but before she can cross the street to catch up with Dean, a large semi-trailer truck passes along the road in between them. When the truck has completely moved on Gwen is unable to see that man in the strait jacket and she is also completely unable to see Dean.