haunted.

save him

The group's collective breath caught in their throats as they watched Virat, or the twisted version of him inhabited by Edmund's malevolent spirit, methodically scraping away the paint from the mirrors. Each stroke of the knife seemed to echo through the room like a chilling reminder of the darkness that had consumed their friend.

Rohit's heart clenched with a mixture of fear and anguish as he beheld the scene unfolding before him. He called out to Virat, his voice trembling with desperation and sorrow, hoping against hope that some part of the man he loved remained buried deep within.

"Virat, please, stop," Rohit pleaded, his words tinged with a raw vulnerability.

Virat turned to him, his eyes empty and devoid of the warmth and familiarity that Rohit had once known so well. It was as if a stranger inhabited the body of his beloved, and the realization filled Rohit with a profound sense of loss.

Undeterred, Rohit took a hesitant step forward, his gaze locked on the knife in Virat's hand. He knew he had to try to reach him, to break through the darkness that had enveloped his soul.

"Give me the knife, Virat," Rohit implored, his voice cracking with emotion as he held out his hand, trembling with a mixture of fear and determination.

For a fleeting moment, Virat's expression wavered, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. But before Rohit could react, Virat's demeanor shifted once more, his movements swift and merciless.

With a sudden, savage motion, Virat lashed out, the blade of the knife slicing through the air and biting into Rohit's hand. Pain exploded through Rohit's senses, white-hot and searing, as blood welled from the wound, staining his skin crimson.

Gasping in shock and agony, Rohit stumbled backwards, his world spinning with a dizzying blur of anguish and disbelief. He felt as if he were trapped in a nightmare from which he could not wake, his heart aching with a profound sense of betrayal.

Ravi and Ed surged forward, their expressions grim and determined, as they wrestled Virat to the ground and bound him tightly to a nearby chair. But even as they secured him, Rohit could not shake the haunting echo of Virat's betrayal, the image of his bloodied hand seared into his mind like a brand.

As he stood amidst the chaos and turmoil, Rohit felt as if his world had been torn asunder, the foundations of his reality shaken to their core. And yet, amidst the wreckage of his shattered dreams, a glimmer of hope flickered in the depths of his heart, a steadfast resolve to fight for the man he loved, no matter the cost.

The room was charged with an almost palpable tension as Ed and Lorraine Warren began the ritual, their voices steady and resolute. Ed held an ancient tome, its pages filled with the arcane symbols and incantations necessary to expel Edmund's malevolent spirit from Virat's body. Lorraine, Pip, and Ravi formed a protective circle around Rohit, their presence a shield against the dark forces at play.

Virat—or rather, the entity possessing him—was tied to a chair, his eyes filled with a mix of fury and fear. As Ed started to chant, a low, guttural growl emanated from Virat's throat, the sound reverberating through the room and sending chills down their spines.

"Exi ab eo, spiritus malus!" Ed's voice rang out, unwavering. "Relinque corpus quod non est tuum!"

Virat's body convulsed, and his face contorted in pain. Edmund's grip on him was weakening, the malevolent spirit struggling against the ancient words of power.

Lorraine placed a hand on Rohit's shoulder, offering silent support. "Stay strong, Rohit. We're almost there."

But Edmund wasn't done yet. Through Virat's lips, he began to speak, his voice a twisted mimicry of Virat's own. "Rohit, it's me. Please, make them stop. They're hurting me."