Exodus

The moment we stepped outside the room the man stopped and I stopped instinctively even before noticing why he stopped. Eventually I did notice.

The Muffin Man was standing facing the wall. He was drawing a picture on the wall of the warehouse. I don't know what he was drawing it seemed like he had just started. He was using a large brush. It looked like the kind used for calligraphy and a bucket filled with what I'm pretty sure was blood. It probably came from the body hanging from the ceiling near him. It's throat was slit and there were two other brushes stuck into it's eye sockets. He didn't seem to notice us and the man motioned for me to be quiet as we attempted to sneak past. As we reached the door I looked back and realized he was watching us and I could tell he was smiling.

His intent was obvious. He didn't mind us leaving. For some reason that terrified me far more than any threatening gesture he could have made.

I'm in a car again. I'm not bound at all this time. The man is very talkative but he's only talking about unimportant and actually kind of depressing stuff. Mostly about death and the afterlife. I'm only twelve and I know more about the afterlife than him. The Angel is the afterlife. When you die you join him and become his slave for all eternity. He's talking about that dumb fake stuff about heaven and hell.

Actually it almost seems like he's very purposely refusing to answer any of the questions he must know I'm curious about.