Her skin dripped downward like candle wax, exposing the blood-red muscles and stark white bones beneath. The eyeballs in her sockets slowly slid free, dangling from her face as they continued to turn, still watching him.
"Daddy, why didn't you come save me?"
Her voice came from that melting mouth, mingled with the gurgling sound of blood and flesh flowing away.
"It was so dark, so cold, so painful. I was so scared. Why didn't you come?"
Isaac stood there without moving.
He knew it was fake. It was an illusion he had created. He knew his real daughter had already been reduced to ashes in that Holy Light explosion, leaving not even a body behind.
But that voice, that face, that voice calling him "Daddy"—
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms until blood flowed out.
"Daddy, won't you hold me?"
That melting thing walked toward him, leaving a pool of bloody water on the floor with every step.
Isaac closed his eyes. He needed to cut down his inner demon in a single stroke. That was what the rules said.
But he could not open his eyes, because that was not an inner demon.
That was his daughter.
Elena stood in her cubicle, facing the door.
It was an ordinary wooden door with a faded Christmas sticker on it. Her son had put it there when he was six. It had been crooked, but she had never peeled it off.
She pushed the door open.
Beyond it was her living room—sofa, coffee table, TV stand—everything exactly as she remembered it. Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting warm patches of light across the floor.
Her son sat on the sofa with his back to her.
He looked seventeen again, tall and thin, wearing a gray