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Eighteen silver eyes leered back at her, long jagged teeth protrude from his twisted mouth. She refuses to accept what she sees. It’s her imagination right? Just a moment ago those inhuman eyes were warm and familar, and greater than that, there were only two. He was smooth, considerate. Kind. She tried to blink the image away. She tried to block out the sickly sensation of wet, slimy hands wrapping around her throat. She knew him. He didn’t look like himself but she knew him. He was not a monster.
She was lying to herself, so he snapped her neck.