Halo (altered states)
Next, the fifteen year old girl.
She seemed very frightened, and largely handicapped; her eye and head movements were childlike, exaggerated; her expressions were infantile and she seemed barely cognizent of the questioning process. She had short cropped hair, badly done, as if no one had wanted to bother. She was crying at times, shaking, and recoiled from what appeared to be many people in the room. At one point the questioning must have become too much for her: she started an intermittent convulsing, almost like powerful hiccups, and her face became abnormally swollen. Suddenly her cheeks puffed out, as if she were going to vomit and the camera jerked (the panicked interviewer?). And then...her lips parted explosively, and a great force was unleashed into the room. Particles of moisture from her mouth froze instantly in the air, little bits of white light started zinging around her face, then upwards, and the bits of sweat in her hair and around her scalp turned to ice, making for her a little halo, glowing in the bright light of the room. There was a high pitched noise, growing louder, and as it reached a painful intensity someone turned the camera with clumsy desperation to the other side of the room. There was a riser full of spectators (medical?) and they were recoiling in horror from a glowing white apparition in the corner; it floated about three feet off the ground, and was beautiful, radiant. There were no wings but there was no face, either. Something was too much for the camera and it instantly burned out.
Follow up: a few years later, this girl was now 18 and not faring much better. She wore a thin battered t-shirt and her hair was darker, longer, and stringy. She looked gaunt from too many drugs or too little sleep, or both. This time, when she manifested, the results were more dramatic and gruesome: when she roared her mouth stretched to impossible lengths, she became covered in a sort of blueish white paste, now streaked with bright red. Her torso seemed to have vanished entirely, so that her head was speaking from her lap...but now just her head was on the interview table, slowly gliding forward, hardly recognizable for the paste and the sheer hideous spectacle.
"How dare you!" she was screaming now, over and over.
Dreams
I was watching archived material from old police case files: this man had attempted to murder his wife, this girl suffered from seizures and was violent. The footage of the man was a little disturbing, a seemingly harmless individual in his late forties, overweight, thinning greasy hair, slightly paranoid and not completely in touch with reality...but still sane. In fact, the most chilling aspect of his character was that if left to his own devices he seemed more than likely to repeat his sociopathic behavior.