The woman's head lolls and brown, aged blood drips from her mouth as she groan-growls and looks at Dan with hate in her eyes.

She says nothing, just steadies herself and stops moving entirely, looking like a big cat stalking prey. When Dan drifts a little too close she lashes out to grab him, her fingers tangling in his hair, her nails catching on his forehead, skin on skin.

Dan's mind is filled immediately with the cacophonous blare of a symphony, underscored by the despairing wail of a woman in desperate agony, and the overwhelming, all-consuming declaration that I hate you. I will make you suffer. All feeling of his body, except the faintest tingling in his fingertips and toes, is gone, and with it, all his control over his limbs.