Ugh. Ugh… Pushing Mia down the stairs? That's low. No better than Jack. I'm done with this "dad" candidate. Just die already.
"Get revenge, Mama."
"No, Evelyn! Stop it…"
I command her through my visions, but Mama—Mia Winters, a member of that betraying "Connections" group—still resists, trying to protect her husband, Ethan Winters. Unforgivable. Stealing Mama from me and then goodbye? No way I'll let that slide.
"Ethan, relax. You didn't mean to hurt her, right…?"
"Kill him, Mama."
"You bastard!"
Finally, she listens. Mia grabs Ethan, slams him down, and stabs his left hand to the wall with a screwdriver. I leer through my vision, smirking. Mia deserves to suffer more. Ethan's a dangerous guy, quick to lash out. Getting killed by her beloved husband? Perfect. What's it called? Right, a lovers' quarrel! Keep going!
"Argh, stop, Mia…!"
"Take this!"
"He doesn't want to be your dad. Gotta kill him, right? Heh, haha, AHAHAHA!"
Mia grabs a chainsaw and severs Ethan's left wrist. I clutch my sides, laughing—well, try to, but my real body's hip cramps, so I just cackle through the vision. That chainsaw… was it from that contractor who tried to wreck this place but fled in fear? Nostalgic. Oh, there's an axe and a gun lying around too, right? Upstairs, maybe?
"Next, Mama kills you. So, Mama, kill or be killed? Your choice. This dump's full of remnants—crap left by contractors and lost souls."
Ethan, calm despite his severed wrist, picks it up and flees. What's with this guy? Creepy. Mia chases him, chainsaw swinging, her face twisted. That's what I hate. My Type-E mold makes people ugly. Molded are hideous but cute friends. Jack, Margaret, Lucas, even Mia—they were kind-faced once, but now they're scary. A small regret.
"Whoa, she won without my nudge."
Ethan, escaping to a room, grabs an axe and stabs Mia. Breathing heavily, he shields his left arm, face full of anguish, and leaves. I make my vision peer into Mia's face.
"You're not dying that easily, right? Come on, Mama, get up. You held back, didn't you? Defying me? You're a failure as a mom."
"Stop… Evelyn. I'm not your mama… Ethan won't be your dad…"
I force her body to stand. She cries, pleading. Something snaps. My real body trembles with rage—old age, maybe? When will she accept it?
"Mia is my mama! You can't escape! Admit it!"
"No, no…"
"Fine. Attack Ethan again. Let your beloved husband kill you. You won't die easily, so he can kill you over and over! Yay!"
I twist Mia's mind, filling it with rage and madness, and send her to the attic after Ethan. He moves like he knows the way out. No escape. I make her cut him off.
"Kill him, Mama."
"AAAAH!?"
Ethan, now holding a handgun, reloads with his severed arm and shoots Mia's forehead without mercy. What the hell? Scary. Wait, wait, wait!
"Mama! What are you doing!? Move! Don't let him escape… Jack, come here!"
I sense Jack nearby and call him. He stops Ethan.
"Phew, thanks, Jack. Good—"
"No one else gets to be her dad…!"
"Wait, what!?"
Idiot! Jack, you idiot! He crushed Ethan's head! My jealous, obsessive Jack turned yandere and killed him! We could've been a family… Wait.
"He's alive? How?"
Infected by me, maybe? Even with his head crushed by a brute like Jack, Ethan lives. When did that happen? Whatever.
"Jack, take him to the main house. Make him family. Take Mia too. That's an order."
"…Fine. Gotta indulge my kid's whims."
Grumbling, Jack hauls Mia over his shoulder and drags Ethan to the main house. Jack's scary. Ethan's scary too, but maybe he'll be a better dad.
[Bad News: Ethan Woke Up Insane / Chatting with the Void] Like Lucas showed me, a forum-style post: Ethan woke up, head crushed, brain fried, staring at the ceiling and talking to my vision—or nothing. Creepy.
"…Sorry. Who are you?"
"Eep!"
"Why're you here? You from here? …Don't wanna kill, but staying means death. Gotta call the cops."
He stares at me, then talks like that. I choke. He's monologuing! What? He knows who I am? I'm just a sweet old lady, right? This is depressing!
"Alright… Anywhere to hide? …Guide me? …Do what you want."
(What? Creepy!)
No one said anything, but he nods and bolts to the garage. How'd he know…? He's back. Tried a knife, but the duct tape held. Close call!
"Something in the fridge…?"
He rummages through the fridge. No manners!
"Huh? Yeah, skinny, bony, haggard guy."
My body? I'm a spry 11 (probably), not a bony old hag! Sad.
"Like curry or stew, a South American dish. Mia made it once."
Now he's spouting trivia and gushing about Mia. Sounds tasty. I want Mia's cooking, not Margaret's garbage. Those were happy days.
"Must suck, raised on that slop."
Hey! Calling my wife's cooking slop!? …Margaret's? Wait, is he reading my mind? Creepy!
"Shut up."
He snaps back! He's reading my mind, right!?
"Huh? A basement? …Got it. Are those… your family? Bakers… the ranch owners? You an orphan or something?"
Whoa! How's he so nosy!? Yeah, Mia abandoned me, but…
"Sorry for asking. Picked up by this crazy family, huh? This yours?"
My old boots, tossed aside. How'd he know?
"Don't leave stuff here. …Grown much? How old are you?"
Rude, asking a lady's age!
"Sorry."
…Am I talking to Ethan? How?