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The Apartment #193


Now on hands and knees, Timmy moved jerkily towards Tracey, his face becoming more grotesque with every juddering movement. His eyes grew bulbous, red-rimmed and lidless, his skin assumed the texture of cold cement. Around his mouth, his lips were no longer defined but ended in scabbed straggles of bloody flesh around the opening, as if they had been grated away- no, worse!, as if they had been chewed away by the pointed yellow teeth that filled his distended, gurgling mouth.
His hands reached out, elongated claws. They flexed, tearing the air each time they raised off the floor.

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