So, my friend, what is it that really, really, frightens you?
Is it the Vampire, swooping in, sucking at your vulnerable throat, drawing you into its grey world?
Is it Demons, Nightdwellers patient in the malevolent darkness, summoned by your own fear and waiting for you?
Or the shuffling noise from your home’s dead corners, the indistinct but eyeless face at the window, the unexpected scratching at your door at night?
Or is it this room we’re in? Windowless. Locked. Shut off from all hope of help. And my surgeons tools, so clean and bright, so neat and tidily arranged?