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The Apartment #210

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This isn’t happening.
Smouldering flesh, small flames appearing and disappearing randomly on Rick’s blackened, coruscating mass.
This can’t be happening.
The beast’s snout turning towards her.
I have to run.
Oh god, my legs! My legs won’t move!

Sunlight catching wisps of smoke; blue, grey, black.
Lips moving.
Teeth bared.
“Mummy.”
Timmy’s voice.
Sweet.
“Timmy want Mummy.”
How quickly blisters form.
On the shreds of burnt skin that were once its lips. Caught in the projectile blast of fire.
Blackened. Blisters already bulging.
“Mummy.
Timmy not burn Mummy.”
Run away!
“Come to Timmy."
The beast lunges forward.
"Timmy eat Mummy.”

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