In the last two episodes of Castle Rock’s first season, the barriers that have been blurring between characters and worlds collapse all together and while the final episode offers some answers, it leaves just as many questions hanging (and even adds some new ones). The themes of perception and intent remain central to these episodes, though pinning them down in any fixed way becomes even slipperier. 

Like “The Queen” (Episode 7), “Henry Deaver” is in a class of its own, drawing us out of the narrative action of the series, while also fundamentally reframing all that we thought we (maybe) knew. The Kid (Bill Skarsgård) is an alternate universe Henry Deaver, the biological child of Matthew (Adam Rothenberg) and Ruth (Sissy Spacek). In this reality, Ruth left Matthew, who fell into a religious obsession and became a kind of hermit, and when Henry goes back to Castle Rock after his father’s death, he finds a cage in the basement and in that cage, the other Henry Deaver, an adolescent version of André Holland’s Henry. And based on young Henry’s behavior, everything that the Kid has said seems to start falling into place: young Henry hears the sound in the woods and has sensory challenges that echo Molly’s (Melanie Lynskey). This reality also provides corroboration for some of adult Henry Deaver’s (as played by Holland) visions of being locked in a cage. There are echoes between the worlds, both in the dual Henrys and in Matthew Deaver’s voiceover about the evil of Castle Rock, which follows the pattern and cadence of Dale Lacy’s (Terry O’Quinn) earlier in the season, the musings and justifications of two men in two different worlds who heard the voice of God and followed that mania to justify locking “the devil” in a cage. 

It could be that the Kid’s version of Henry Deaver is a clever ruse, a narrative put together from the family videos, sermons, and other artifacts that he had access to in the shed. It could also be that the woods around Castle Rock are home to a permeable place between worlds, where things can sometimes slip through (referred to in King’s Dark Tower lexicon as a “thinny”). The reality of the sound that both Henrys (and now Henry’s son Wendell, played by IT’s Chosen Jacobs) hear is undeniable and the overlapping timelines the characters witness in the woods are arguably convincing evidence as well. The Kid knows things he shouldn’t be able to know and makes unbelievable claims that seem to be born out. When the Kid asks Molly “you believe me, don’t you?”, as viewers we are asked to pick a side, to determine which truth resonates the most and which reality seems the most likely. Molly herself is torn, telling the Kid “I want to,” but without being able to fully commit (and she definitely has a vested interest in the question: in this other world she was a happier person, but is also now dead). 

The framing of the Kid as a victim in “Henry Deaver,” unwittingly snatched from his own world and put in a cage in the bowels of Shawshank, is also complicated, as he demonstrates clear evidence of his power and intent. When he and Holland’s Henry are locked a cell in the Castle Rock jail, with time growing short for them to get to the woods and hopefully get everything (and everyone) back in their proper place, the Kid uses his powers to start a fight between the Shawshank prisoners who have been temporarily relocated to the jail, with the chaos and violence providing the two Henrys with a chance to escape. While some other interactions have left his intent open to interpretation, his clear gaze and the bloody cause-and-effect chain of events that he sets in motion here seem evident. Then there is the moment in the woods, when he and Holland’s Henry struggle over a gun and for just a moment, his face becomes aged and monstrous, something not quite human. Here again, though, there are multiple explanations: he could be a monster or even the devil that Lacy claimed he was. Or as the Henrys neared the thin place between worlds, the twenty-seven years he has been locked in the basement of Shawshank may have caught up with him in one fell swoop, with his suffering externalized. Or we could have abruptly switched perspectives, seeing Holland’s Henry’s worst fears, a nightmare vision that may or may not be objectively true. Sure, there’s a brief moment where the Kid’s face becomes monstrous, but there’s no simple “ah-ha, he IS the devil!” resolution. 

While questions linger about the Kid, Holland’s Henry’s intent is clear and considered. While he has reason to believe now that at least some of what the Kid has told him is true, he returns to the status quo, imprisoning the Kid once more beneath Shawshank, restoring an order that was shaky and flawed to begin with. Henry takes on the obsession of Lacy and his father before him, making a choice even though he is still filled with doubt. And the Kid … well, the Kid just seems tired. He’s not particularly surprised to be back where he started, he doesn’t beg to be released or try to convince Henry of his version of events. Instead, he just wearily asks Henry “how long are we gonna do this for?” (“Romans”). He seems resigned but also somehow not exactly trapped, like the tables could turn whenever he wills them to, which simultaneously suggests both empathy and monstrosity. In these final moments, before Henry shuts the door and leaves the Kid in the dark once more, we’re still not quite sure who he is and what he’s capable of, left with the lingering suspicion that all of the stories that seem to be mutually exclusive could each be true, daring us to make sense of a reality (or perhaps more accurately, realities) that refuses to fall into place.