Narrate a scene in which, possessed by a dark entity, you harm an innocent.
The dancers fall lifeless - crumpling as their strings are cut by his shade. Above him, Sally shrieks as Volpe and Calhoun remove the skin of her face. The chandelier is still swinging wildly overhead and in each wash of light he can see the entity turn to advance on him.
"You look so tired, beloved," it murmurs, cupping his jaw in its cold hands. "Allow me."
It dips its head and when it kisses him he feels his consciousness wrenched from his grasp. All sounds die suddenly as he's plunged into the black of the void.
Jonah can only watch as it uses his body to pick its way across the corpses strewn about the makeshift ballroom, stooping to pick up a pair of scissors. They are fine, sharp things - something of Sally's, sure enough.
"Excuse me- please?"
Its attention turns to the child Sally had employed, pinned like an insect to the stage by Volpe's spear. It smiles, makes its way across the floor - the boy looks almost relieved.
"Oh, thank God at least one of you has sense," he stammers, though an uncertain fear still lingers.
It stops just ahead of him. "He got in your way, beloved - in our way." It tests the weight of the scissors in its hand, using its other to lift his chin.
"Who- what? Wh-what are you talking to?"
It clucks its tongue and shushes him. "What use are you without a master?" It asks, only giving him a moment before it drives the scissors into his ribs, pulling them back and stabbing him again. It doesn't stop when his voice breaks into a high shriek of pain, immaculate white clothes staining red in the swinging light. Only when it finally rams the scissors between his fourth and fifth rib, deep enough to hit his heart, does it stop.
It relinquishes its hold on Jonah when it is satisfied that the boy is dead, leaving him in the wake of its violence. He blinks rapidly and sways on his feet, and when his consciousness holds his attention falls to the corpse, propped up by its pinned arm. He can still hear the others on the catwalks above, Sally's own screams reduced to low groans of pain. It's done. He wrenches the spear from the stage and turns away as the boy slumps to the ground, staggering from the building and into the frigid morning air.