Henry heard the chant booming over the speakers, and the fact that Reika's attention didn't waver proved that he'd done his part. By the time she was done with him, it would be too late for her to do anything about the exorcism. Which meant...
Which meant he could finally stop fighting to survive and have peace.
When she reached for his neck, he froze in place, making it seem like he was freezing up in terror when really, deep down, there was nothing but relief. Relief at no longer having to fight tooth and nail just to survive from crises to crises, no longer longing for someone that would never even be here...
Nothing but relief, that is, right up until the pain started. It was agony. Every nerve ending flared in white-hot pain, his back arching and arms flopping limply back. His legs gave out on him entirely, and the only thing keeping him off the ground was her hands around his throat. It kept him from screaming, but even if he could, his screams would sound less like a human in pain and more like the shrieks of the damned.
Dimly, he was aware of memories cascading through his perceptions, memories that weren't his and that he could only surmise were hers. Terrible memories of a twisted ceremony... And in that moment Henry realized that this girl, Reika, was just as much a victim in all of this as everyone else. The poor girl...
And then everything changed. To the people watching in the real world, Henry was still writhing in her grasp as tattoos wound their way around him. But in his head, he was on a small wooden raft floating in the ocean. There was no land that he could see, no nothing besides his one raft - a sturdy piece of wood - and the limitless ocean. The waves rocked him gently as he floated on that raft, looking up at the sky. In his head, he'd moved beyond pain, moved beyond emotion, beyond memory, beyond everything. He was on death's doorstep now, with one foot already across the threshold, and now nothing mattered. Nothing at all.