Where was he? He had no clue. He didn’t want to know. And when he found out, he never wanted to come back again. He opened his eyes slightly. The corpse with the stitched shut eyes was, if even possible, staring at Brent. Then, he saw it twitch. It reached up, and Brent shrunk farther back into the corner. But instead of lunging for him, it pointed past him. Then it started clawing at itself. Slowly, the stitches came out, taking parts of skin with it. But underneath the shriveled, dead skin, was new skin. Clean skin. Familiar skin. Behind the stitched-shut eyes were young eyes. Pretty eyes. Known eyes. Underneath the scalp was hair. Beautiful hair. Remembered hair. Brent knew who it was.