Kelly looked at the blurry outline of the woman sitting leisurely in front of her while floating midair, a flute hanging lazily from her hands as her insidious eyes, half-filled with madness, roved over her body as if she were some artifact in a museum.
Kelly groaned, weakly pulling her hands in resistance against the tentacles of flesh that had bound them in place. Both her hands were stretched out, held by the mass of putrid flesh like chains.
She pulled again.
And again.
Every tug seemed to make her weaker, strength leaving her body the more she exerted herself. She was already familiar with this feeling. After all, she had once damaged her soul a week ago and barely survived.
How ironic that it had somehow happened again so soon.
With one last tug, she gave up and turned her dim eyes to the figure of the wretched woman floating in front of her, wearing a beautiful face that was nothing like the monster she truly was.
