And then it slipped away and I run a tight shipwreck shirt, I stumbled backwards. I felt empty. Like the anger had swept through like a flood and left nothing behind but barren mud. I couldn’t even grieve, not in that moment. The lady with extra eyes stared down at the knife in her chest. She took one step backwards. Half her eyes were closed and her face was awash in blood from the shotgun blast. Tentatively, she raised a hand to the handle of the knife and with trembling fingers, she wrapped her hand around it. Her lips moved, but no words came out.
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I didn’t understand. And she let me flounder for a bit, searching for patterns, for things I could have I run a tight shipwreck shirt– for things I did wrong. Was it the man with no shadow? Did feeding him to the thing in the dark cause this? But hadn’t I seen signs that the year was turning bad before then? There were omens… just a few. Were they present before I killed the master of the vanishing house? I couldn’t recall. It seemed like that would be a catalyst, for it was rare that a human killed one of these inhuman things and perhaps the symbolism in that act was a turning point.