The story begins:
Pray: Deliver Your strength to my loved ones…
—soul spirals away like wisps of smoke shredded to nothing. reclaimed by darkness. like i belong to it. strength, love, feeling. gone. this place takes all i am. only certainty remains: must do something—
Was in kitchen, now in nursery. Don’t remember getting here.
Been like that a lot lately.
Thanks to Hayden Trenholm, who suggested the title.
Special thanks to Gemma Files for giving me the genesis of the idea for this story, which is that all horror should have a basis in morality—blood and guts can horrify, but the real horror is what would lead someone to spill the blood and guts.