17: Die a Humble DeathStepp, now with renewed control over his fine motor skills, paced the hospital room in front of Smith’s bed. The ticking clock and beeping from the machines were the only sounds. A typical Salem winter sky of overcast clouds blocked out the moonlight and left the hue from the hallway lights seeping through the bottom of the door as the only means to see.
Stepp glanced at his decaying hands and noticed the goo stains from killing Anya’s girls. As he paced, he realized he had a decision to make. The drive was strong in him to keep returning to the netherworld to pick off Anya’s army one by one until none were left, but the drive to just sever his own cord so he could literally rest in peace was a tad stronger.
The heart monitor kept time with Smith’s heartbeat as Step
