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The Apartment #202


When Tracey waved the knife, Timmy stopped. Still on its hind legs, which Tracey realised with a shock that made her gasp, were now covered in scales, scabs and open wounds, it eyed her.
Claws on its feet scraped the floor and it looked down at them.
Tracey breathed fast– too fast. She must try to stay calm.
The thing looked up from its feet, its eyes boring directly into hers. His mouth had distended into a muzzle, tearing the blackening skin, which fell away revealing muscle and sinew. Then slowly something like a grin crawled over its disfigured face.

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