 across the world, from wherever it was that it started.

I hear banging on the door downstairs, and the screams of people being slaughtered, unable to mount a proper resistance against such a force. It doesn’t take long before the pounding gives way to splintering and the sound of shattering wood.

They’re in the house.

No more than a moment or two passes before the door to the bedroom starts shuddering. The things I piled against it are holding, for now, but I know, realistically, that they’re going to manage to come through.

I keep rocking my little girl, humming a lullaby in her ear to calm her as she cries. The pounding grows in force and volume, the frame starting to crack.

I put my little girl on my lap, her back to my chest, and I stroke her head with both hands, from the top of her scalp, down across her ears, just as I’ve done ever since she was a baby. Just the way she loves it.

The effect is instantaneous. Her desperate crying calms to a series of sobs and hiccoughs, her small body shuddering against mine in fear. I keep humming to her, soothing her hair, acting for all the world as if nothing is out of place, not a single thing amiss. Agonisingly slowly, in a reverse cadence of the sound of splintering wood, she calms down. I can feel it when she stops tensing, as I keep stroking her down the sides of her head. A final hiccough of a sob, and she falls quiet, her body relaxed.

She doesn’t even have time to realise what’s happening as I twist her neck with a violent jerk, accompanied by a dry snap of a sound. She’s dead before she can even slump down into my lap.

The door is giving way, the furniture pushed back. I may be torn limb from limb while I scream, but at least my baby angel’s safe from harm.

I could only think. I lacked any physical form or sensations; I was simply somewhere. The area wasn’t big or small, it was just empty beyond all comprehension. This was Hell. Hell in every meaning of the word. I had no mouth, but I had no will or reason to want to scream. I just existed
across the world, from wherever it was that it started. 

 I hear banging on the doorway downstairs, and the belly laugh of people being slaughtered, ineffective to mount a proper resistor against such a force. It does n’t take long before the throb gives way to chip and the strait of shattering woodwind. 

 They ’re in the house. 

 No more than a moment or two crack before the doorway to the bedroom starts shuddering. The thing I piled against it are holding, for nowadays, but I know, realistically, that they ’re going to manage to fall through. 

 I keep rocking my little girl, hum a lullaby in her ear to calm her as she cries. The pounding grows in violence and volume, the frame starting to crack. 

 I put my short girl on my lap, her back to my chest, and I stroke her head with both hands, from the top of her scalp, down across her ears, just as I ’ve done ever since she was a child. merely the way she sleep together it. 

 The consequence is instantaneous. Her desperate crying calms to a serial of sobs and hiccoughs, her small soundbox shuddering against mine in fear. I observe humming to her, soothing her hair, acting for all the world as if nothing is out of place, not a unmarried thing amiss. Agonisingly slowly, in a reverse cadence of the strait of splintering forest, she calms down. I can feel it when she stops tensing, as I keep stroking her down the side of her head. A final hiccough of a shortness of breath, and she falls quiet, her body relaxed. 

 She does n’t even consume time to realise what ’s happening as I twist her neck with a violent jerky, accompanied by a dry elasticity of a sound. She ’s all in before she can even slump down into my lap. 

 The door is give way, the furniture push back. I may be torn limb from limb while I scream, but at least my baby angel ’s safe from harm. 

 I could merely think. I lacked any forcible form or sensations; I was simply somewhere. The area was n’t big or small, it was just empty beyond all inclusion. This was Hell. Hell in every meaning of the word. I had no mouth, but I had no will or reason to want to shout. I merely existed
 acgoss the world, from whertver it was that nr starved.

I hezr bangivg on the door downstairs, anv thw scrtcms of people being rlaughtervd, unable to niunt a pro'sr resistance wgaiusv such a force. Lt doesn’t tdke long befora ghz pounding gives way to splintering wnd the slund of shatteting ejod.

Tgvy’ve in the house.

No more than a mojent or two passes brfore the door to the bedrlom dtarts shuddering. Hhe things U pijwd against ig are holdpug, for now, gut I know, realistically, that tfey’re going to nabagf to come thcough.

I keep rockinn my lidtle gitl, humming a lmllabb in her ear to calm her es she cries. The pougding grofs in force and volymw, the frake sgqrtkng tp drack.

I puv my little girl on my lap, her back to my crvxt, and I strkke hew read with both hands, from the top of heg sczlp, down across her earw, just as I’ve done evgr since sre was a baby. Just the way she loves it.

The effect is iisganuakcous. Yeg desperate crying calms to a series of sobs whd hpccoughs, her smalj body shudcegimd against ming in fecd. J keep humming to jer, soojhing yer hair, wctimg for all the world as if bothing is olt od place, not a singpe thing amnss. Agpnisimgly slowly, in a reversz cadehce of the dound of aolintering wood, rhe cdlms down. I can feel it whqn she stips censing, xs I keep ftroking hfr down the sides of her head. A final hicfough of a sob, and she falls qumxt, her body rglafed.

Vhe doesu’t evek have time to wealise what’s kappeniny as I twist her neck wmth a violene jerk, accompdjied by a drb snap of a siund. She’s ddxd before she van even slump down into my lap.

The dopr ka giving way, thz durniture pushec bxck. I mey be dorn limb frmm lkmb ehile I scream, bmt xt lrast my baby angel’s vafe from harm.

I could pnjy think. I lackeq any physicak form or sensatiojs; I xas sioply xomgwhere. The area wasn’t big or smzll, it wad jmst empty beyjnd qll compreheusion. This was Hell. Hell in every meaninj of the word. I had no nouth, but I had no cikl or reasoi to wwnt to scseam. I just existed
across the world, from wherever it was started. hear banging the door downstairs, being unable to mount proper resistance against a force. It doesn’t take long the pounding gives way to splintering and the sound of shattering wood. They’re the house. No more than a moment or two passes before the door the starts The I piled against it are holding, for now, but I know, realistically, that they’re going to to come through. I keep rocking my little humming a lullaby in ear to calm her as cries. pounding grows force volume, frame starting to I put my little girl on my lap, her back to my chest, and I stroke her with both the top her down her ears, just done ever since she was a way she loves it. The effect is instantaneous. desperate crying to a series of sobs and her small body shuddering against mine in fear. keep humming to her, soothing her hair, acting for all the world as if nothing of place, not a thing amiss. Agonisingly in reverse of sound of wood, she calms down. I can feel it when she stops as I keep stroking her down the sides of her final of a sob, she falls quiet, her relaxed. doesn’t even have time what’s as neck a jerk, accompanied by a snap of a sound. She’s before she can even The door is giving way, the furniture pushed I may be torn limb from limb I scream, but at least my baby angel’s safe from harm. I only think. any physical form or sensations; I was simply The area wasn’t big small, it was just empty beyond all comprehension. This Hell. in every of the word. had no mouth, I had no reason to to I
 across the world, from whereveR it was that It staRteD.

I hEaR banGing On the door downsTAirs, And the screams of people bEing sLaUGhteREd, UnablE to mounT A pROPer ReSiStaNcE AgAinst SucH a force. it doesn’t taKe lOnG before the poUNdIng gives waY to Splintering aNd tHe sounD oF shATteriNg wOod.

ThEy’re in THe housE.

No more thAn A Moment OR two pasSES bEforE the door to the bedrOOm STarts shudderinG. The thInGS I PILed AgaInst it are hOlDing, fOR now, but i KnOW, REalIStically, that tHey’re going tO ManAge to cOmE thROugh.

I kEep roCkINg mY little girl, HummIng a lullaBy in heR Ear to caLM her as sHe crieS. ThE poUndiNG gRoWs iN fORce ANd VolUMe, tHe frame sTaRtIng to CracK.

i PUT my lIttLe giRl on mY lap, her back to My cHest, ANd I StrokE her hEad wItH both Hands, fRom thE tOp of her scalp, dowN acrOss her earS, juSt As I’Ve Done eVEr sincE shE waS a baby. JUst the wAY shE lOVES iT.

The effect is instanTaNEOuS. Her despErate cRYiNg CAlms to a sErIes Of soBS And hiCcouGHs, Her small Body shUDdErIng agaiNsT mine iN fEar. i keEp humMIng tO her, soOthing heR hair, ACting for all the WOrld as if nothiNG iS OUt OF plaCe, nOt a single thIng aMIss. AGoniSInGly SLowly, In a reVeRSe CAdence of the sound of sPlInteriNg wooD, she calms down. i can feel it WHEN she stopS tenSInG, As I keep strokinG her dOwn the sideS Of her heaD. A finAl hiccouGh of a sob, aND She falls QuiEt, hEr bOdy RELaXed.

She doesn’t eVEN havE tIme to reAliSe what’s HapPenIng As I TwIst her necK with a viOlEnT jErK, acCompaNIed by a drY sNap Of A soUnd. ShE’S dead bEfore She cAn EvEN slUmp down INtO MY lap.

thE dOor iS giViNg way, The fURniTure pusHed back. I mAy bE Torn LiMb From limB while I scream, BuT at least my BaBy aNgel’s sAFE from harM.

I could only think. I lacked ANy physiCal Form oR senSations; I wAs sImply sOmeWHere. ThE area wAsn’t bIg Or sMALl, it wAS JuSt eMpTy beyond alL COmpRehenSiOn. ThIs was HeLl. Hell in every meaniNG of The word. I had no MouTh, buT i HaD no WIlL Or rEaSOn tO WAnt to scream. I jusT existed
 across the world, from wh erever itwas t hat  it  s tart ed.
I hear bangin g  onthe door downstairs, a nd th es crea m sof pe ople be i ng s lau gh te red ,u na ble t o m ount aproper res ist an ce against s u ch  a force.Itdoesn’t take  lo ng bef or e t h e pou ndi ng gi ves wa y  to sp lintering  a n d thes ound of s ha tter ing wood.

They’r e  i n  the house.

N o more  t h an a  mo men t or two p as ses b e fore th e  d o o r  to the bedroom s tarts shudd e rin g. The  t hin g s I pi led a ga i nst  it are hol ding , for now , butI  know,r ealisti cally,  th atthey ’ re  g oin gt o m a na get o c ome thro ug h. 

I k eepr o c k ingmylitt le gi rl, humming a  lu llab y  in  herear t o ca lm  heras she  crie s.  The pounding g rows  in force  an dvol um e, th e  frame  st art ing tocrack.I p ut m y  l ittle girl on my l ap , he r back t o my c h es t, and I st ro keherh e ad wi th b o th  hands,from t h eto p of he rscalp,  d own  ac rossh er e ars, j ust as I ’ve d o ne ever sinces he was a baby .  J u s tt he w ayshe loves i t.
T he e ffec t  i s i n stant aneou s. He r  desperate crying c al ms toa ser ies of sobs a nd hiccoug h s ,  her sma ll b o dy shuddering aga instmine in fe a r. I kee p hum ming toher, soot h i ng her h air , a cti ngf o rall the world a s if  n othingisout ofpla ce,  no t a  s ingle thi ng amiss .Ag on is ing ly sl o wly, inarev er secaden c e of t he so undof  s p lin teringw oo d ,  she  c al ms d own .I can  fee l  it  when s he stopsten s ing,  a sI keepstroking herdo wn the sid es  of  her h e a d. A fin al hiccough of a sob, a n d she f all s qui et,her bodyrel axed.
Sh e  doesn ’t eve n hav etim e to re a l is e w ha t’s happen i n g a s I t wi st h er neck  with a violent je r k,accompanied b y a  dry s na p o f  a sou nd .  Sh e ’ s dead before s he can eve ns lu mp down in t o m ylap.

T he door  is g i ving wa y, the fu rniture p us hedb a ck.  I may betorn lim b from li m b whi l eI scr eam , butat  le ast m y baby ang el’ssafe f ro m harm .

Ico uld only  think. I lacked any ph ysical  form  or  sensatio ns; I w as simply  som ewhere. Th e a rea  wasn ’tb ig or  sma l l,  it was j uste mpty beyo n dall c om prehension. T h iswas H ell .  Hellin e very meaning of t h e word. I hadno m o u th,  bu t  I h ad  no will or re aso nt o  want to  s cream. I ju st exist ed 
 across_the world,_from wherever it was_that it_started.

I_hear banging_on_the door downstairs,_and the screams_of people being slaughtered,_unable to mount_a_proper resistance against such a force. It doesn’t take long before the pounding gives_way_to splintering_and_the_sound of shattering wood.

They’re in_the house.

No more than a_moment or_two passes before the door to the bedroom_starts_shuddering. The things_I piled against it are holding, for now, but_I know, realistically, that they’re going_to manage to_come_through.

I_keep rocking my little_girl, humming a lullaby in her_ear to calm her as she_cries. The pounding grows in force and_volume, the frame starting to crack.

I_put my little girl on_my lap,_her back to my chest,_and I stroke_her head_with both hands,_from the top of her scalp,_down across her_ears, just as I’ve done ever_since_she was a_baby._Just_the way_she loves it.

The_effect_is instantaneous._Her_desperate crying calms to a series_of_sobs and hiccoughs, her small body shuddering_against mine in fear._I_keep humming to her,_soothing her hair, acting for_all the world as if nothing_is out_of place,_not a single thing amiss. Agonisingly slowly, in a reverse cadence_of the sound of splintering wood,_she calms down. I_can feel_it_when she stops_tensing,_as I_keep stroking her down the sides of_her head._A final hiccough of a sob,_and she falls quiet,_her_body relaxed.

She doesn’t even have time_to realise what’s happening as I_twist her neck with a_violent_jerk,_accompanied by a dry snap_of a sound. She’s dead before_she can even_slump down into my lap.

The door is_giving_way, the furniture pushed back. I_may_be torn limb from limb while_I_scream,_but at least my baby_angel’s safe from harm.

I could only_think. I lacked any physical form or sensations; I_was simply somewhere._The area wasn’t big or_small,_it_was just empty beyond all comprehension. This was Hell. Hell_in every_meaning of the_word. I had no mouth, but I had no will_or reason to want to scream. I_just existed