Becca's trembling intensified, her hands shaking as she withdrew her foot, and you, still clinging to her ankle, were jostled back and forth like a ragdoll. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and her face was a mask of fear, confusion, and something darker—a flicker of anger, as though your presence, tiny and pleading, was a stain on her sanity, an unwanted reminder of the horrors she was trying to push away. She stammered, her lips parting and closing as if searching for words but finding none. Her voice, shaky and tinged with hysteria, whispered, “This… can’t be real.”
Her face was even paler now, the bags under her sunken eyes deep and dark, casting shadows that made her look even more skeletal. The outline of her cheekbones seemed sharper, like her very essence had been chipped away, leaving a gaunt, haunted expression. Her cracked, chapped lips quivered as she stared down at you with an expression somewhere between disbelief and rage, each breath coming out in a shudder as though she could barely hold onto herself.
And then, her fear turned to panic.
"No, you’re not real. You’re just… a nightmare… a hallucination!” She muttered in a frantic whisper, her eyes widening with horror. Her hand darted forward, fingers spread, and with a sudden surge of movement, she tried to swipe at you, her fingers coming down like massive fleshy pillars.
You scrambled backward, just managing to avoid her enormous hand, each swipe sending gusts of wind that nearly knocked you over. Her fingers brushed past you, barely missing as she clumsily tried to grab or crush you, her movements erratic and uncontrolled, as if she couldn’t bear the sight of you.
Her face twisted, a grotesque mixture of fear and revulsion, and her breathing grew even more shallow, her entire form trembling with terror. She stood up suddenly, her bare feet slamming onto the tiled floor, sending vibrations through the ground that made your teeth clatter. In her distress, she didn’t see where you had fallen.
You found yourself lying flat on the cold, hard floor, dazed, when her enormous foot came down again, her toes splaying as she moved toward you in an attempt to crush you. The sight of her filthy sole, dirt and grime clinging to every crevice, loomed above you, and you barely rolled out of the way as her foot smashed into the ground beside you, leaving a small smudge on the tile from the grime caked onto her skin. The intense smell of sweat and dirt filled the air again, overwhelming, and you gagged, trying to wave the scent away from your face.
The ordeal seemed to be pushing her closer to the edge of her sanity. Her breaths were ragged, her eyes wild, and she raised both her hands, preparing to bring them down on you in a final attempt to rid herself of this “nightmare.”
In one last desperate escape, you stumbled to your feet, adrenaline pumping as you sprinted across the floor. Your legs burned with effort, each step a struggle as you fled from her looming hands. But just as you neared the edge of the bed, a stray motion from her swinging foot caught you off-guard, sending you flying into the air. The world spun as you hurtled through the space, disoriented, before you landed with a splash in a pool of lukewarm liquid.
Disoriented and gasping, you wiped your face, only to realize the surface around you was white and uneven, with faint, scratchy lines cutting across. The walls rose high, and it dawned on you that you were now inside a large Styrofoam bowl. Bits of soggy cereal floated around you, their surfaces swollen and mushy. The faint smell of milk mixed with the lingering staleness of artificial flavors. You tried to swim, pushing yourself through the heavy liquid, but it was thick and clung to your body, making each movement feel sluggish.
Before you could even catch your breath, you felt the ground rumble. The shadow of Becca’s hand stretched over the bowl as she pulled it closer, her fingers wrapping around the sides, her face looming above. Her eyes were vacant, drained of life and emotion as she absentmindedly lifted her plastic spoon, dipping it into the bowl. Her gaze was hollow, lost in thought, completely unaware of you, now just another tiny object caught in her breakfast.
You looked up at her in horror, watching as her cracked lips parted slightly, and she scooped a spoonful of milk and cereal, her fingers trembling slightly as she raised the spoon to her mouth. Each chew was slow and methodical, her jaw working with a detached rhythm, as if she wasn’t even tasting the food. You shouted, waving your arms, but your voice was too small, lost beneath the sound of her gentle chewing, her teeth grinding down on the mushy cereal with each deliberate crunch.
Desperation gripped you as her spoon plunged into the bowl again, the plastic edges sweeping through the milk like a miniature tidal wave. You tried to swim away, the thick, milky liquid resisting every movement, but the spoon’s edge caught you, dragging you along with a scoop of milk and cereal. You tumbled onto the spoon, slipping and sliding against the plastic surface, surrounded by mushy cereal bits. The coldness of the milk was numbing, seeping into your clothes and making you shiver.
In an instant, you were lifted up, the spoon rising rapidly toward her face. Her mouth opened, a dark cavern framed by those dry, cracked lips, and her hot breath washed over you, carrying the scent of milk and the faint sourness of old cereal. Her tongue, glistening and pink, lay waiting like a slimy, fleshy platform, each ridge visible, the tip twitching slightly in anticipation.
You screamed, flailing, but her hollow gaze didn’t even flicker as the spoon approached her lips. The spoon tilted, and you slid, the thick milk around you making it impossible to gain any traction. You tried to grab onto the sides, but the smooth plastic offered no hold. Her mouth was right there, an endless maw, and you slipped over the edge, landing on her tongue with a wet slap.
The texture was rough, covered in taste buds that felt like tiny, slick bumps pressing into your body. Her breath was humid and oppressive, carrying the smell of her breakfast, mixed with something stale and metallic. Her tongue shifted beneath you, pressing you against the roof of her mouth, squashing you into the mush of cereal. The pressure increased as she closed her mouth, sealing you in darkness, her teeth grinding down just inches away.
You struggled, pushing against her tongue, but the slick muscle held you in place with ease. Her saliva seeped into your clothes, the taste overwhelming and salty, mingling with the flavor of cereal. She moved her tongue again, tossing you to the side as she chewed, her molars mashing the cereal just inches from your body, each bite a resounding crunch that vibrated through her mouth.
Desperation clawed at you as you fought to stay out of the way, each movement of her tongue sending you tumbling around, colliding with her teeth, her cheeks, until finally, with a powerful motion, she swallowed. The pull of her throat was like a powerful current, sucking you down, and you slid helplessly into her gullet, the tight walls of her esophagus squeezing you downward in a slow, constricting wave.
The descent was disorienting, the muscles around you pressing in from every direction, pushing you deeper into the darkness.
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