@batteredcorpse
She was carrying Eve in one arm -- the four and a half year old having grown too tired of walking -- and her haul of groceries was looped over the other. She had that dead set look of determination that people who are carrying way too much weight and were seriously regretting their life choices plastered across her face.
But Evie was almost asleep on her shoulder, and they’d finally, finally reached their street. Which, of course, was when things started to get funky. It felt a lot like she’d suddenly been crack upside the head with a sledge hammer. Pain blossomed at the back of her skull and stabbed through her temples. Like carpenter nails.
Irene stumbled, and then full to her knees, breathing hard. Something cracked -- that’ll be the eggs she thought absently -- and Eve startled.
“Mama?”
“I -- I’m okay honey I --” Another mental crash. And her vision doubled. No -- it did more than that because she was seeing -- seeing herself. Or some version of herself -- and -- and -- her brain stuttered. The present reality split apart -- only this time it was all in her head.
