“What… the fuck,” I said breathily, “What the fuck is going on here?”The woman pouted at me, and for some reason, it sent a sliver of ice down into my heart. I staggered backward and collided with one of my dressers, a stick of deodorant and a framed picture of my parents clattered to the ground. “Now now, sweetie, don’t panic, it’ll come back to you,” She said smoothly.But that was the problem. It had already come back to me. I remembered every gory moment of the night before. I remembered dying on the street, blood gushing out of me from a stab wound in the back. I remembered the woman, sauntering down the street as if she owned the bloody place. I remembered her taunting me, picking me up as if I weighed nothing and then… and then… biting down on my neck like I was a two-for-two meal at a nearby chicken shop. “I remember,” I hissed, “So I’ll ask again, what the fuck is going on here?”The woman looked me up and down quizically and I couldn’t help but feel like I was a pie
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