The creature’s hulking presence startles her. But she can’t move. She wills her legs to do something, anything, but she’s stuck. The creature snarls at her, revealing long razors overlapping into gnarly patterns over blackened gums. They seem to glisten with reddish, brown liquid and small chunks of something.
Alicia’s gaping mouth gags as she imagines faces that used to belong to those chunks. She feels if she doesn’t get away soon, she may die of fright. Which might actually be better for her in the long run. At least then she wouldn’t have to feel those blades ripping into her as the monster adds her flesh to its collection.
But the creature doesn’t go for her. It’s frozen. It doesn’t seem overly aggressive toward her, yet it stares at her, unblinking. Maybe her tiny frame is just not worth the creature’s time. If that’s the case, then what is it doing here?
Alicia tries to speak, but the creature makes a loud, almost cat-like growl which fills the airspace and sends ripples through Alicia’s chest, jumpstarting her heartrate.
At the same moment, the creature begins to move sporadically, almost panicky. Its chest rises and falls over its russet fur. Bulbous eyes grow wide. It sniffs the air with its long, rubbery snout.
Is it scared? Alicia almost laughs at the thought. How could this being be afraid of anything? There’s not going to be anything higher up on the food chain. And Alicia is definitely not someone to be scared of. She’s quiet, subdued. Never brings attention to herself. And almost never does anything for herself. She’s the perpetual people-pleaser.
But the thought she could instill fear into something so terrifying slows her breathing. She calms.
She scans the thing’s body and notices its meat-cleaver hands are clasped over each other, its shoulders hunch, as though it’s trying to be miniscule.
Alicia knows this position all too well. She’s always hiding from the world, and this stance is her go-to.
Her fear is replaced by a new feeling—pity. She realizes this creature is scared. And Alicia knows how to help. She slowly reaches her hand out to touch the monster. At the same time, the monster reaches out to her. Her hand trembles terribly. When their hands touch, the experience is not at all what Alicia would have imagined. She would have imagined warm, rough skin, but what she feels is cold. Cold and smooth.
She lifts her other arm and so does the monster. She tilts her head to the side—the monster follows suit.
What the heck?
She lets out an audible sigh of frustration, but it’s drowned out by a low howl from the creature.
Alicia feels disoriented. And in her bewilderment, she swings both hands toward the monster. But instead of connecting with it, her hands smash into a mirror, sending shards of glass all over the bathroom floor. She looks down at her bloodied meat-cleavers and passes out.
