Mary broke away from her husband and collapsed, sobbing. She paused to plead with him.
“Please! I miss him too. But this isn’t right! This isn’t right with God!”
Victor thew down the book he held.
“God!? Where was God when we needed Him? He could have saved him but He did nothing!”
“You weren’t there when it happened,” Mary said, defeated. “There was nothing anyone could have done. He was just five! He ran into the street and it all happened so fast!”
Victor hung his head in shame and knelt down next to his wife.
“I was at work… he was laying on the street, I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
Mary wiped the tears from her face and sat up to face her husband. She had never seen it, but she realized: He took it even harder than her.
“Let’s give you the chance,” she said, picking up the book.

Victor took Mary’s hand and together they stood.
They opened the book and read the incantation in unison.

The mangled body of their son stood on rotting flesh and faced them with black, dead eyes.