Chapter Eight, Part OneMature

My vision smashed sideways into the blood-soaked rug in a haze of smeared rainbow, like a Jenga player on a Special Trip. My blood looked all neon and sparkly in the luminol! Wait... 

Then I realized- I’d left my Sight open. 

Nobody else who managed to get through that door would be able to see the Pudding. 

I stared at the Pudding, my eyes pulling upwards toward it where it banged and gnashed against the double circle I’d drawn in my blood. 

A tentacle shot out, slamming against my circle like it was trying out for professional hockey. 

Another tentacle slammed against the circle, and another. 

Another. 

“Ow,” I said flatly, blinking defiantly at my new headache, as if the old one that had ended in my, uh, giving birth from my head to a Spirit of Intellect I’d unknowingly been pregnant with for several years hadn’t been enough. 

The blows were piling up evenly, meticulously. 

I closed my eyes against the ache in my head and began counting the time between blows, feeling each strike like a physical beating through my mental barriers.  

One, two, three, strike! 

One, two, three, strike! 

One, two, three, strike! 

As I thought about it, it sounded suspiciously like something was on my mind. Again. Damn it, Mab, you rapist.

The End

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