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“There was nothing you could have done,” the thing in Mr. Black’s body said, drawing Tyler out of the darkness. Blinking through tears, he looked up to find it sitting in a chair, its legs crossed casually at the ankles.
“What are you?” Tyler demanded. He wanted it to tell him that it was just Mr. Black. That his grief was making him see and hear things. He wanted a lie.
It wasn’t that kind.
“You’re a good, God-fearing Christian boy, Joseph,” it said. “You know what I am, and you know why I’m here.”