I've got to do something.

I stared, stared, stared and could only stare.

I'm a war veteran, a Marine. I've served tours and actively participated in various raids across the frontlines. I've seen some things as a MP. Then as a PI. Ugly secrets, traitorous minds and supernatural shit that would give the Conjuring a run for its money. Werewolves, corpse rituals, curses even fucking demonic presences of all things. I had those things in my path and still trodden this far. I could somehow understand those. Desperation, loneliness, greed, anger are some things I'm unfortunately closely familiar with. They're driving forces, emotions of war and crime.

I've also seen grief. War comrades lost in the war, their heartbroken families, lovers, friends. Attended countless funerals than anyone ought to. I've seen it cause depression and trauma. Those who survived, bore the scars of their loss and moved on. Those who didn't... Were another funeral I attended. Sometimes even family and friends can't reach you those places, one has to take that step.

But this was another first that I could've lived without. One had to wonder what would drive Ray to such lengths. Such... state. But I had seen the reason outside, on the walls, in every nook, in his eyes and heard it in his voice.

I slowly walked closer to him, avoiding the slick layer of something on the floor. Now that I saw it, I could see how the flesh was eaten through, the carcass lacking majority of it's blood and skin torn open.

"It'll be alright, old girl. See? It's just fleas botherin' you..." Ray continued mumbling. He continued picking maggots.

Sitting down on my haunches, I gently tapped him on the shoulder.

"Ray?"

He whipped his head towards me. This was not the same man I had met earlier. His pallor had yellowed, eyes hazy and his crazed murmuring abruptly cut off.

"Jake?" he whispered. His hands paused at picking the maggots.

"Hey man," I thought what to say, "What are you doing?"

He looked at his hands and the bucket somewhat confused.

"I-I was helping my old Bessie. S-she always used to scratch herself on the trees when fleas bothered her..."

I swallowed. "Okay, Ray. Why don't you come with me outside?" I put a gentle yet firm hand on his shoulder.

"Outside…?" He said, almost to himself. Suddenly he was agitated. His hands on his, tugging at his hairs, expression agonised.

"I know! I know what you see! You think I'm crazy, don't you!? You think I did this!"

"No, Ray." I said, slowly helping him stand up. "It's not your fault. We're gonna find out who did this, remember?"

"It's not?"

"No, absolutely not." I steered towards the kitchen. Stepping out, I was guiding on to the chair, when he violently lashed out and ripped the laminated list on the fridge.

"See this!? I can't do it! I can't!" He shouted, "I'm useless! I didn't want them to die! Jake! I don't-- They keep--" His voice was hoarse now. Heaving huge breaths he clutched at the paper as though it was sign of his biggest failure.

I stepped towards him, slowly, not to agitated him more. It failed.

"You! Why did you come in? Why? WHY?" he jumped on me, hands around my neck, eyes crazed. He was trying to scratch my skin off.

"WHY?! WHY!?"

I gripped his hands, extricating myself, I turned him around with his hands behind his back. I kept a firm hold on him, though his shaking and snarling didn't stop.

As I was of tying him to a chair or something, my gut clenched. Without further thinking, I ducked. A coffee cup on the table flew and violently smashed on the fridge door, denting it and shattering the cup, shattering into million pieces. A fallen piece before me read husband.

The now released Ray jumped on me again, screeching and snarling trying to damage in any way his frenzied state allowed to.

As I again seized his hand to stop him, I wasn't given time because a glass flew directly where my hand was going to be.

Pushing him away, I stood and looked around the kitchen. There just tad too many throwable items in the kitchen, much less the living room. I had to subdue him here and somehow stop whatever it was, that was doing this.

Warily looking around, I didn't see anything that was floating or moving. Turning back to Ray, he was slowly standing up, still growling.

Even touching meant was getting a toaster to my face and that wouldn't do. I had to make him calm somehow.

"Easy, Ray. It's alright. See, no touching." I said, my arms held ready yet placatingly.

...And he jumped straight for me, which was impressive considering there was 6 feet of distance between us. Ray was hopped up on supernatural powers and that was bad.

As his hands yet again came around me, I ripped the list from his hands, thinking it could calm him, considering that's what triggered him.

Bad decision. Because he turned even more feral and added his teeth to his attacks. Being done with this, I pulled him violently then turned him around just to slam him face first on the floor. Swiftly, before my face was hugged by a toaster I took the Lull spell tore it with my teeth, thought hard of Ray in my mind and said, "Quies."

Immediately his shaking stopped. A clatter to my side drew my attention and saw that it was indeed a toaster about 3 feet from my face.

Sighing, I gently turned him on his back. Fortunately, no broken noses or knocked out teeth. A little bruise on his forehead. I checked him for signs of concussion and was relieved to see none. Though, I would've to check in intervals.

I sighed again at the rapidly burning spell. After use, the paper burnt away, but the spell remained for a maximum of 24 hours which could change upon target's willpower to resist and constitution. Caster could also end the spell's effects early if willed. It would've been a good spell to use on the werewolf. Alas, my fault I didn't keep my cane or tranquilizer nearby. I had figured I would take it with me when I was out tracking and exploring the area.

Shaking my head free of those thoughts, I gently picked up and found my way to Ray's bedroom. Gently placing him onto the messy bed, I let him sleep. Realising I still had the list in my hand, I thought of what to do. Burn it? Dispose of it? Clearly, something was taking advantage of Ray's grief to twist it into something sinister. But... I hadn't seen anything.

Turning slightly, I surveyed his bedroom. Window overlooking his farm, it had its own hygiene facilities. Along with a closet, dresser table and mirror and a side table. Which I now found, had the missing picture frame. It's hook was bent at places, validating what I thought had happened.

Picking it up, I immediately recognised the person in it as his wife. Pale skin, blonde hair withering away into thin wisps, dark eyed and frailer than the bright eyed, fair skinned woman that she had been. Beside her was what I thought was Bessie. Much alive than now. She looked as though she was buoyed by Bessie's presence, resulting in a smile on her face.

Thoughtful, as I was turning, my gaze fell upon the dresser mirror and I froze.