There had always been something wrong with Charles—something that he was usually able to control. However, the heat was the first step towards bringing his other side out. With the immense heat and the crackling thunder, Charles felt a deep anger brewing in his blood.

He looked with hot red eyes at James. The thunder and lightning were possessing him, controlling him. He had a strange urge to kill. He needed to release anger, so he looked at the table and then at James. He stood up and let out a yell not of anger but of fear. The lightning and heat both enraged and frightened him.

James looked up from his writing with knowing eyes. He wasn’t dumb. He guessed immediately that the writing on the tombstone was coming true. It wasn’t that hard to guess because Charles, chisel in hand, was evilly glaring at him with bloodthirsty eyes. Charles needed to release his anger, his fear, so he charged like a rhinoceros at James.

James, by a stroke of luck, avoided Charles’s swing with the gleaming-from-sharpness chisel and ran towards the door. The fat, yet not out-of-shape, Charles was right behind him.

"I will kill you for destroying me!" screamed the hate-filled Charles.

The horrified James didn’t know what to think. He had one thing on his mind: to live. James hurtled down the steps, with Charles, who by now was frothing at the mouth, right behind him. James opened the door at the bottom of the steps and ran into the street. For some reason he couldn’t scream and could hardly even speak; he opened his mouth, but no sound was emerged.

Finally, with a desperate leap, the breathless Charles caught James by his clothes, pulled him to the ground, and killed him quickly and brutally. From Charles’s insane viewpoint, he was the one who was screaming. However, it sounded like a moan of agony. . . .