You apologize to her, telling her the truth of you thinking that she wasn't a real person. Her eyes widen, before holding your wrist. She started making a small shaking-like motion, before gesturing down from her face. From this information, you are able to tell that she is telling you that she had a stroke and isn't able to talk because of it. She gestures more, helping you understand she can only eat foods that aren't mostly solids. You apologize again, sitting down and having a conversation, albeit one-sided, with the nice lady. She 'tells' you about how she met her husband in this diner, and how she loves eating here. After having a nice time with her, you tell her you should return to your friend, she smiles as best she can and lets you. Returning to your friend, you see your food is a little cold. Either way, at least you are safe. You explain everything to your friend, telling him how she just suffered from something that she doesn't let affect her life. The people who can go on with major injuries and still enjoy life are incredible and yet, you notice your friend doesn't seem to be listening. He looks up at you, sighing. He gestures that he wants to leave, uneasy. Asking if he already paid, he nodded and got up. Exiting the establishment, Harrison starts walking behind the diner, sniffling. Confused, you follow him. He turns the corner, and you hear him sobbing. It really must've taken a toll. These days, it's extremely hard to trust anyone. At least you have each other. You turn the corner so you can comfort him, and as you do, your chest starts to hurt. You look down, seeing a stretched arm going directly through it. Harrison, or whatever is mimicking him, betrayed you. "I-I just can't believe she was a real p-p-person. I feel so horrible..." It speaks just like Harrison, the sound erupting from its lips without expression. It pulls its arm out from your insides, as you start to spit up blood. Your lungs are filling with your own blood and you can't stop it. As you slowly go towards the ground, you see the body of your friend, the red t-shirt he was wearing, and the puddle of blood beneath. It was over.