“Y-you aren’t well Jeremy.” You tell him. Your grip tightens on the revolver. “You’re living in a Fantasy world. You might think these are all fun and games but it’s not Jeremy. You’ve killed 8 people.” He turns to look at you. He isn’t looking at you with the blank expression as he always does. There’s a look on his face you haven’t seen before. It feels as if he’s looking directly through you. It sends chills up your spine. “Kill? What do you mean kill?” He speaks in a dead monotone voice before he switches back to an excited one. “We’re celebrating your birthday remember?” He motions to a party that isn’t there. “We’ve all gathered ‘round for your special day! Isn’t that right Mr. Potato Head?” His body contorts violently as his plays a different character. You cringe at the sound of his bones dislocating and take a step back. “That’s roit. Come on then, blow at the candles. Werl all waiting.” You raise the revolver and aim for his head. “There’s aren’t any candles Jeremy. We’re in a basement.” Your heart begins to beat faster as your breathing becomes heavier. Your find it difficult to keep your hands steady. “Jeremy? I’m mista potater head.” His body contorts once more. And again. And again. With every sound of bones grinding against each other a different voice comes out of his mouth. “Come on, sport. Blow out the candles.” “You got this.” “We’re all waiting” “Hurry up so we can cut the cake.” “And open presents.” “I got you a race car.” “You’re not supposed to tell him what you got, Jimmy.” He… It steps closer and closer to you giving you a better shot. It makes noises that fill you with dread as he lumbers closer. You fire the revolver but miss. Your aim wasn’t steady enough. Its about to reach out to grab you when the sound of the bullet pings off a metal pipe and the ricochet bullet catches it in the knee. It collapses onto the floor. You quickly back away into the wall. “Ouch. Those aren’t the candles, bud.” It jokes. It slowly gets up on its knees and begins to crawl towards you. You cock the next bullet into the chamber to fire again. You pull the trigger and nail it in the left shoulder. It recoils momentarily and chuckles. “Almost there. You can do it. We’re all rooting for you.” It continues to crawl towards you. “I…I don’t… I don’t want to do this Jeremy.” You begin to tear up as you cock the third bullet. “Oh come on. You have to! It’s your birthday! I’m not blowing out the candles for you! You gotta do it on your own!” It is only a few feet away from you. “Please Jerma…” Streams of tears flow down your cheeks. It begins to beatbox happy birthday as it reaches out to grab you. There’s no other option. You close your eyes and pull the trigger. The gunshot rings out only to be followed by silence. You can no longer hear the beatboxing.