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>Why can't you move? Something is pulling you down, but why can it prevent it you from not going down.

Because it's a god or something! It's bigger then she is.

>The fly is pulling you

Yeah! That!

But it doesn't get to have everything it's own way.

She's tired of just falling. She wants something to aim for.


She likes that. Pools of water.

Can she do that?

Might as well try.

What to use though? She needs a visual.

She pictures the water in her head. She pulls up memories of summers in pools, and bath tubs and swimming on the beach.

Water. Cool water, clear, safe. A water slide at Atlantic Playland that she'd gone down fifty times in one long exhausting August day when she was eight.


That's good.

But pools are not enough. She needs somewhere to land. Some kind of landing zone.

Gaps, cracks, holes… gotta pry at them, widen them, break them open! Use the light, use that fragment, use the scarf. Break through to a different moment in time.

Cracks again? No. They're too dangerous. She doesn't want to find out what happens if she or Kendra gets cut on something like that.

Landing zones. She needs somewhere to land.

She tries to scrabble together something to hold onto. Rocks? No. All her bruises tell her that they'll never forgive her if she inflicts rocks on them in addition to everything else.

Pillows? The mental image of a pillow with a pool in it flashes through her mind.

No, too ridiculous.

Ah screw it. Her subconscious can figure it out.

They just need to work.

A landing zone. A place where she can look into the pool and decide if she wants to go in or not.

That's the important bit.

And she could use some colour in this place!

And light! Sunlight is the best disinfectant after-all and -

And -

And she really is out of time.

She opens her eyes.

And this time it works.