She swaggered up to the door, light flickering through the cracks in the frame. She grabbed the handle, cold, damp, turned, swinging the door open; she screamed, her father swinging from a noose, mouth gaping, rotting, eyes plucked, sockets crawling with maggots; his bowel ripped open, guts all over the floor; she fell back, splashing in her father’s blood, drowning under his swarming innards; icy claws gripped her arms, tearing jagged flesh; she flailed about, shrieked, sucked in blood; a gigantic talon slammed into her back, jutting up, pushing through her stomach; choking, drowning, suffocating, she writhed up and down, body splitting in half, blood squelching; her father’s dying roar thundered as his body fell, fell, landing on top of her chest, his mouth closing over her head, biting down, ripping her scalp into the air, her brains smoking in the steam of his bloodbath…

Chelsea gasped, flying up in bed, shoving the covers from her body. The grandfather clock in the corner of the guest bedroom ticked back and forth; a cool breeze flittered through the open window, tugging at the blinds; shadows lurked in the corners, over the walls. She was alone. Chelsea splayed over the bed, shaking, quivering; she stared at the fan above her head, slowly turning, humming; felt the gentle wisps of air massaging her face. Tearful of her father’s broken image, she didn’t move, her dad’s playful laugh, tender touch, unconditional love, all shattered by an invisible foe whose only title was a myth.