I heard Conor talking to himself about thirty minutes after his Mom had left for the evening.

At first, I’d thought it was his TV, maybe his cellphone. At first, I thought nothing of it, but then I heard:

“Her name's Judy and she's our babysitter for the evening.”

“If you want her, then we can have her.”

It was the last line that made me deviate my attention from my phone. It made me scrunch my face up and wonder what Conor was talking about.

Conor’s voice dropped, not quite to a whisper, but low enough to where I couldn’t make sense of what he was saying.

I pushed myself off the couch and made my way down the hall towards Conor’s room. He was still talking, but I still couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. Was he even speaking English?

I gently pushed Conor's door open to see him sitting on the floor with the lights off. The only light was that of the moon as it cast through the window's blinds. He sat there staring straight, unflinching and unmoving, seemingly unaware of the fact that I'd entered his room. A chill ran down my spine and it had nothing to do with the coldness of his bedroom.

Why was it so cold? The rest of the house was fine, it was freezing in Conor's bedroom.

“Conor? Did you say something?” I asked.

Through the darkness, I could see his eyes meet mine. He said nothing, he didn't move, he only stared. I began to tremble without realizing it, unable to move. Standing there in the dark, frozen and staring at my neighbor's eight-year-old son. The Doyle's had offered me an obscene amount of money to watch Conor for the night, and at the moment, I was starting to regret it.

I tried my best to move but I couldn't, it was as if I was paralyzed by a mixture of confusion and fear. Conor started talking again, once again in a language that I couldn't understand.

"Conor? Who are you talking to?" I asked. It sounded loud in my head, but I know it came out as a whimper.

"He thinks you have a pretty face." Replied Conor.

I snapped out of it and flipped the light on. I entered the room on shaky legs. "Who thinks I have a pretty face Conor?"

I watched as Conor's eyes moved to my left. And then I heard the bedroom door close behind me. I spun around and saw...

Conor.

Only it wasn't Conor. It wasn't the boy sitting on the floor. Standing behind me was Conor but a drastically different version of him. His eyes were gaunt, his skin was tightly wrapped around his skull. His blonde hair was thin and gray. It was Conor, but he had the features of a man who was rapidly decaying.

From behind me, I could hear Conor say. "He wants your face, Judy."

And then I felt a little bite at my ankle as a needle plunged through my skin. And then my body tensed up and my world went fuzzy as I collapsed to the floor.

I tried to move but I couldn't. I tried to scream but no sound came out. I could hear two sets of footsteps approach me. I could see the decaying Conor as he pulled a large knife from behind his back.

I could feel the knife as he pressed it to the side of my face.

I felt Everything.

But, I couldn't scream.