Drake: I never told you to do this! You sick bastard... I'm not like you! Roderick: Don't be so modest, Drake! You're exactly like me! That was always the problem! The Narrator: Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December. And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor... Drake: You bloody bitch! Drake: This isn't over Roderick! No matter what it takes, you're gonna pay for this!