ITHURTS

Maria. Was.

She had been before. She could remember being, the metallic tang lingered.

She was in the place she had gone the last time she had stopped being for a time. To her it seemed nearly the same, the hand holding her under icy water had little to mark it out from the monster crushing her windpipe,

She moved.

You did what was asked.

The shape of thoughts came to her in a circle, the same as last time.

You delivered it to us.

The sense of something familiar, just beyond the edge of things. It had the shape of the thing that had puppeted the monster. Hate flowed over her only to be cut off suddenly with the stink of red.

We look after our own.

The thoughts felt no need to explain any further.

Maria accepted and then she no longer was.