The blood pooled at her feet reflected the light at the end of the corridor, curving around the surface tension. As she strode over the stone floor into the recesses, she couldn’t help but make the obvious analogy to womb-theory, popular with those who would have you believe you could reimprint someone’s personality with anything other than shocking violence, questionable science or hard drugs.

She had seen the hard drugs and shocking violence warp people until they could no longer be recognized as such. The questionable science was still, she laughed to herself, questionable.

A culture of horror could easily rewire an …

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