When Jeremy woke up finally his body felt cold, like dead cold, and he discovered he was still in the cabin. It had been just as he suspected. The snow was still there and it was still cold as Hellâ€¦ wait. Cold? Had the cabin not been warmed up at least a little? Maybe he had been sleeping for far too long and things had gotten quiet and now the cold was sinking in again. He stood from the chair quietly and looked around at the now eerily silent cabin, noting how not even Lia was present. Now he knew he was really losing his mind, worrying about her like he was, it almost made him laugh. Though thinking realistically if he was feeling this cold maybe he was dead? Did he die and end up a ghost like the rest of whatever was trapped in this place? He suddenly felt very vulnerable and it made him cringe just thinking about it.<br/><br/>There was movement in the kitchen area suddenly. Jeremy held his pistol out in front of him and slowly moved towards it, wondering if it was Lia, keeping vigilant. He hid himself along the doorframe and peered in slowly to see who it was. What he found left him speechless. There was a man standing there fishing through the cabinets and drawers as if he was looking for something. What made it worse was that Jeremy knew this man, also knew that it was impossible for him to be there. That man had died years ago by his handâ€¦ He took his glasses off and gently wiped the lenses with his shirt before he put them back on, just to see if his eyes were deceiving him. He began to wonder if he really as dead or not.<br/><br/>â€œJeremy? Well fuck me! Howâ€™ve you been, Jeremy?â€ The man said once he noticed he was there. Jeremy felt himself shiver and he took a step back. â€œCome on up and grab a drink, Jeremy my friend! You look like you could use some good, hard whiskey.â€ The man pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses seemingly out of thin air.<br/><br/>Warily, Jeremy nodded and took a seat at the table in the corner, made for two it seemed. â€œIf only you had even the slightest idea how badly I need this drink, Steve. How?â€<br/><br/>â€œHow, what?â€<br/><br/>â€œHow are you even here? Is this really Hell?â€<br/><br/>Steve smiled and leaned in closer to look deep in Jeremyâ€™s eyes, â€œWhen you die, you donâ€™t even deserve to be in Hell. Donâ€™t tell me you forgot about what you did to me? How you tied me down and lit me on fire. Me! Your own best friend!â€ Suddenly, Steve stood from his chair, his body slowly becoming engulfed in flames. Jeremyâ€™s face was pale, probably felt colder than the rest of his body. â€œIâ€™ll tell you this, Jeremy: there really isnâ€™t any rest for the wicked.â€ The man pulled a gun and shot Jeremy in the head.<br/><br/>Jeremy felt a jolt as he coughed up a bit of blood, discovering he was back in the chair he had fallen asleep in. He had a splitting headache and he groaned a bit, holding his head as he recovered from that nightmare.