A few hours later, I still cannot sleep. I toss and turn and finally get up. Often I am still awake in the wee hours of the night, so I have a penchant for going on a walk about the halls until I exhaust myself. I fumble about in the dark, barking my shins on the dresser in my search for matches. I find a box, strike one, and then light my candle stub. I walk out of my chamber and through the statue hall. I am passing by a window when my candle blows out. I strike another match, but it is blown out as well. Suddenly I hear a voice.
"You didn't think it would be that easy to get rid of me, did you?"
Everett stands in the window, arms folded and an expression of self-satisfaction on his face. I scream and start to run, but find my legs unable to move. This must be a dream. It is a dream, isn't it? Only in dreams is a person inable to run from whatever terror is haunting them. No, wait, it is not a dream. He has thrown a Halopod at my feet. Halopods are strange alchemical creations that temporarily freeze whatever they hit. I reach into my belt pocket and remove my matchbox. I strike a match and hurl it at him. He howls in pain as it hits his eye. Normally, I am not a vicious person. However, I believe that this incident does not fall under normal circumstances. He lunges out of the window frame and grabs me. He throws me over his shoulder like I am a sack of flour. I like to think that I weigh more than your average sack of flour, but the sad truth is that I most likely don't. I am pleased slightly to see that a dark blue bruise is already forming around his eye.

Did you know that it's not fun to be slung over someone's shoulder while that someone jumps out of a third-story window? Well, now you know. I pound on Everett's back and kick at him, but it does no good. Kicking him is like kicking a rock. I scream at him until I suppose he grows tired of my verbal abuse. He shoves a sack over my head and ties the string. This is the least fun bit. I don't know what happens for several hours after that, mainly because-oh yes- I HAVE A SACK ON MY HEAD! I continue to yell and call hime a bevy of nasty names that Miss Perugia would wash my mouth out with soap if she caught me saying.