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▟▞ "I'm not afraid." Repeating this over(/ˈoʊ.vɚ/) and over(/ˈoʊ.vɚ/), eventually it will be made true by repetition, force of will. That's what you're counting on...and maybe this stolidity of thought will carry downward and weigh down your bile which so writhie-s'round beneath your stom'. You can't blame it, not in full; it always had more in common with the sludge at bottom of a pool or some primordial stew-n'-brew than any of this impulse-bounded nervous-wreck it found itself by-product of. Just please, you have to beg it, please don't leave me now. The thing it shambles forward and you close your eyes, imagining the blackstuff pouring out through pore and soaking up to give just that much more bulge to the mass. The doorway's just behind you and your hand claws back to find the knob; you have to close those eyes now, have to give it your-all just to focus on the brass. One turn, one turn, that's all it has to be..."I thought you said you weren't afraid..."