“Monster.” That’s fair. Harsh, but fair. I feel at my face. Cuts—broken skin—nothing like how I remembered leaving it. But the face paint is still mostly intact, which is the important thing. Actually, I think all that blood’s started a new layer. How avant-garde! I look around for my special friend, the Lieutenant who can’t take a joke. Is she this body? This one? No? I turn over the corpses, but find no horns—at least, not the ones I’m looking for. She’s not among them. I can’t tell if I’m disappointed or relieved. I’m aware…my thoughts aren’t quite right. I’m alive. After all of this, I’m
...more
with a touch of bipolar manic depression. :(
