Time is not a luxury. Time is a gift.
She flinched as it quit circling the room and bounded toward her once more, halting inches from her face.
She hated when it spoke in near-riddles. There was just enough there for her to grasp the meaning, but enough vagueness to leave a fog of fear settling in her stomach.
“I know that,” she said, her chin up, attempting a show of defiance. If she couldn’t feel confident, at least she could act confident. The Worm seemed to respect that. Sometimes.
I’m worried.
Worried? Mariska couldn’t remember The Worm ever using that term. She wasn’t sure how she should feel to hear that.
Worried that I’m here and will starve. I cannot starve, Attendant. You cannot let me starve. It will be very bad for us both.
She didn’t doubt that.
“I will get you what yo
