So we escaped but with his last ounce of free will he, somehow conjured up from some ill used recess, managed to check us into a mental institution. It was under a false name and he was fuzzy on the details to the attending nurse but he convinced them to lock us up with tighter chains that even I could break in this weary, weak body of his.

When the blood spattered across the pale skin of his teenage face, he felt it immediately but the full process had yet to begun. Long after he'd felt the spray or looked deep into those round soulless things or even before he heard the gun shots that would mark the start of the end. The true moment came the second the life slipped from the indomitable grasp of Harry Warden. So, the crimson red had seeped itself though the recesses and pours of the boy's face, going deeper until it merged with his own blood. This blood then travelled with the rest of his blood to corse through the veins that resided in his brain. There in his mind the blood had brought with it the soul of that slain monster of a man. Harry Williams would not even let death cease his rein of terror.

"Harry doesn't talk." Was the response he gave to the doctor who sat across from him, behind his wooden desk. The room was small but modest. The psychiatrist sat heavy in his thick black leather chair, the kind the spins. He was younger than most senior shrinks; about forty odd, perhaps late thirty, with well controlled black hair and thick black glasses. A chick might think him nice looking but not handsome.
"What do you mean Harry doesn't talk?" The shrink asked in response. It was always just like shrinks to ask about something that was obvious. Hadn't I just said all there was to be said?
"He just doesn't."
The doctor made that noise, you know the one, like a hmm but with more meaning behind it, like he'd reached some conclusion or at least had theorised a so-called 'hypothesis'.
"The how do you communicate?" He asked again.

I sighed, the details always exasperated and frightened me at the same time; it was a strange combination.
"At first I thought he wasn't in my head." I paused, God this was confusing even to me, "At first I thought he was a person, someone who existed just like you or me. You know, a person." Taking a deep breath I continued, "But then, I, I, I realised he wasn't. Before you know, well he came to me like any other person but I found out that he was like a ghost, not there. I found out he was in my head. He was taking me over and making me do bad things. He controlled my body. I..."
I stopped. I could say any more. Midway, without even realising it I'd started to hyperventilate. I had to stop talking, I fumbled in my jacketed for my pills then I realised that they weren't there so I just kept hyperventilating. Soon everything started to fade to grey, then black and I found myself loosing control of my legs then I was out, stone cold. Of course I had no idea that soon my doctors would be meeting Harry.

Tom Pines (last name, as it appears on his admittance forms) had hyperventilated and passed out. The doctor hadn't thought much of it until he woke up and went straight for his throat. But a psychiatric hospital is prepared for these things and soon he was subdued. Locking him in chains was all they could do to contain him; but when they did they found him to be calm, menacing and silent. The only sound that slipped from his mouth, apart from the few grunts he had uttered during his assault upon the doctor, was that of heavy breathing. He gave death stares to anyone and everyone. The change was obvious even to the untrained. Tom was gone, and Harry had arisen.

A/N: So what do you think? Should I continue this? This was just an idea that bounced around my head after re-watching the movie again. So? Is it any good?