The thing would keep its mouth shut, refusing to divulge even the smallest bits of information. As I looked at it, sitting in the dark, curled as if scared, though I know it wasn't, it infuriated me. It had stolen my face and had taken residence in my mind and yet it added no value. I wasn't being completely honest about the abilities the thing provided, but I didn't particularly care.
It had not only tried to kill me, but it had also tried to kill everyone that was in my year group. It was the source of most my interpersonal problems, and it seemed to add more. The fact that it was resilient to literal hell also didn't do it any favors in the grand scheme of things.
