Oh dear god.

Oh my god oh no oh shit what the fuck oh goddammit oh please oh no this cannot be oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck this isn't happening oh my fucking god oh no please oh no no no no no ARGH-MOTHERFUCK.


Okay, no.

Okay shush.

Calm down.


First, stop the bleeding. Firm, steady pressure on the wound. Use the thumb of free hand to apply additional firm steady pressure on the artery to reduce the bleeding.

“You’re going to be okay, baby.”

Goddammit, please, the rest of you, stop screaming.

We all have our own problems here.

“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay.”

Please be okay.


Every second seems to take forever to go by. For some reason, among all the panic and fear and anger and confusion you feel, out of necessity, a crystal-esque clarity cuts right through like a small, yet impossibly bright beam of light.


You know this feeling.

You’ve felt it before.

It feels like you’re right there all over again.

It feels like the day she was born.


Oh, sweetheart.

Oh, sweet heart.

Please, start beating again.



You cannot bear it.

It wells up within you like a tumor that you do not wish away. Instead, you feed it. It is only natural, after all. The hate.


It's all going to be okay.

Sweetheart, I promise you.

Daddy will avenge you.


The viking way.

The End

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