Everything was fine until the cracks grew bigger. The rumbling is what pulled my attention from memory 508, a comic book of supernatural deaths. With a noise like glass breaking, the hair-thin lines that’d appeared in the surrounding void a few months ago split like the fractures in my skulls. Spider-web fissures covered the ground, the rounded walls, up to the ceiling’s center. An orange light—the good side of my Person’s mind—forced its way through, turning my lovely black abyss into a holy shithole.
My heart constricted as I looked to the screen embedded in the opposite wall. What’d been a nice view of my Person’s kitchen was now static. Unless my Person had their eyes inches from a faulty TV channel, something was up.
Rising to my feet, I tossed memory 508 aside and made my way to th
