PSA: tw gore, rape mention, death
Dong. Dong. Dong.
The great ringing bell echoed from the center of the town, the buildings nearby bending from the heavy weight of it. It soaked into the ground and the sky roiled in fear—clouds peeked at the edge of the horizon, their reaching hands darkening by the second. The people of the small town rested in their homes and their businesses, their minds empty and distracted. Everyone was content in their own self-centered perceptions.
It was a perfect day.
A lone woman stood outside Morrigan Therapy, her clothing untouched by the incoming breeze. She was a figure cut from stone and could have been mistaken for a statue. However, after a few seconds, she moved forward, her gait smooth and stride long.
The small bell above the door rang in metallic cheer as the woman stepped through. The waiting room was completely void of people save for the bored receptionist, a young woman who glared at her computer with open hatred. The door closed behind her and the bell rang again. It's ring was sharper than before, as if warning the residents inside.
(The spirit of Cassandra wailed and Apollo flinched.)
White decorated the space to a nauseating degree. The walls were clinic white, a burning color that nearly melted into the white tiled floor. The only color that broke up the room was the harsh black waiting chairs and reception desk, a bright blue name tag rested on top. Everything was starched and the fluorescent lighting almost warped the edges of the room; even the crisp lines of the corners bent and wavered underneath the unforgiving light. Drawn curtains trapped the effect inside the building, the outside beauty not allowed to enter as if it were the monster waiting on the doorstep.
How foolish when the monster had already entered - and it was not the woman.
Her heels clacked like gunshots in a civil war; like a judge's gavel sentencing a man to death. Yet the young receptionist did not look up from her computer, her attention completely captivated by its aggravation. The faux cheerful tag called her Mary - a rather ironic name for such an annoyed woman. When the clicks stopped, Mary sighed and closed her eyes.
"You're here for...," the young woman looked at the computer again, her eyes drawn to the only appointment at the time, "Doctor Wendell Tudor, right? He hasn't gotten a lot of patients lately, so he'll be able to see you straight away."
Without waiting for a response, the receptionist immediately checked her in. She pointed to the door on the right side of her and said, "He's in room 39. Keep going straight until you reach the end; it's the last door on the right."
Mary returned to her typing, dismissing the woman completely. A shiver ran across her shoulders and down her arms. Eyes still trained on her computer, Mary sighed and glared at the screen even more.
'What is up with the damn a/c? Great, now I have to talk to maintenance,' she thought. Mary glanced at the woman out of the corner of her eye and withheld another sigh.
"Just go right in, the door's open." Her voice was filled with exasperation and she quickly went back to the computer. Another shiver crawled down her spine and settled in her rib cage.
The woman stayed there a second longer before finally brushing past. Mary saw dark clothing out of the corner of her eye but didn't bother to look up until the woman passed her. Right as the woman passed by Mary shuddered, her fingers flying off her keyboard. She gasped, her breath a cloud of mist, and whipped around, obscene curses on her tongue. She opened her mouth to ask if the other woman had felt that as well, but the woman had already gone through the door by the time Mary had gathered her thoughts.
She stepped from the desk, ready to run to maintenance, only to slip. Mary managed to catch herself on the edge of the desk before she fell. Her breathing came hard and fast and she froze once she got a good look of the room.
"Oh my God. Oh my God," she whispered, horrified.
The room was covered in a thin sheet of ice, no millimeter of the room untouched. Shivering in violent jerks, Mary hunched over, her hands clutched at her arms in an attempt at staying warm. With careful steps she inched around the desk and shuffled toward the door the stranger had gone through. She reached for the door handle but the metal was unrelenting beneath her touch.
"Fuck." She stepped back and shuffled over to the other door. The handle did not budge either and she cursed again. Teeth clenched, she rammed her shoulder into the door over and over again but the door did not yield.
Eyes now wild and breaths coming out faster and faster, Mary walked as fast as she could toward the main doors. No matter how hard she pulled, the doors refused to open. The bell looked down at her.
She hobbled over to the windows but they too were sealed shut. Mary screamed a wordless sound of anguish, panic finally reaching her. She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands on both sides of her head, as if everything would go away when she opened her eyes. When it didn't she frantically looked around, hoping to find something to help.
Her eyes found her computer and she made a mad dash for it. Slipping twice in her haste, Mary made it back to the desk with minimal injury. She fumbled at the keyboard but a quick look at the connection dashed her hopes. The wifi wasn't able to reach her computer, rendering it practically useless. She swallowed hard and panted before remembering her phone.
'Oh lord, please work. Please work, please work, please work,' she thought endlessly. Her hands managed to hold her phone with a steady grip and she yelled triumphantly when it turned on. Mary immediately went to the emergency call option and dialed 9-1-1. She held the phone up and hope swelled in her chest—only for her soul to crash down into the pit her stomach when the call didn't go through. Her heart racing, Mary dialed again to no avail.
Mary slid down the side of her desk, her breath labored and eyes watering. She frantically tried to think of a reason for any of this and she could only think of one thing: the mysterious woman she had checked in earlier. Slowly she began to sob and curled into a ball. She watched the right hand door with wide eyes and hoped the woman, whatever she was, would not return.
What Mary had not realized was that the woman had heard her desperate prayers. She knew Mary, while not a kind soul, was an innocent one. The young woman would not suffer more than what she deserved - but the woman was not here for her.
Frost nipped at her heels as she walked past each door. All of them froze over and sealed shut, anyone in them none the wiser to their temporary imprisonment. The hallway was coated in ice by the time she finally got to the end; the plaque of Dr. Tudor shined brightly in the light that bounced off the ice. The woman looked at it and it immediately cracked under the weight of her stare. She turned back and opened the door.
The plaque shattered completely and fell from the wall the moment she walked over the threshold. The cold stayed outside the door, waiting for her command much like a well trained pet. She let it rest just before the door and, when it closed, heard the moment it sealed the door shut. The woman looked at the man and did not move closer.
Doctor Wendell Tudor was a fairly average man. Not too tall with a kind face and kinder smile. He reminded many a patient of their own father or uncle or older brother. Some did not find much comfort in the comparison and others found too much.
The doctor smiled up at her though his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion a second later. She was covered head to toe, her face the only thing uncovered and even then he could not see her eyes, covered by thick shades as they were. His face cleared quickly and he once again offered a bright smile.
Wendell stood and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Doctor Tudor and I'll be overseeing your sessions." He held out his left hand. There was no ring in sight, only a thin band of pale skin.
(The muses stopped singing and Hera growled.)
The woman made no move to shake his hand—she made no move at all. She just continued to watch him and the doctor easily grew uncomfortable within seconds. His smile fell only to return with more force, with more teeth, and he took his hand back while he laughed.
"Don't like handshakes, huh? That's alright, it's not for everyone." Wendell tried to play off the flustered heat that crawled up his neck but she knew better. After all, eyes did not lie and his were crowded with shadows.
He cleared his throat and sat back down, obviously waiting for her to move as well. When she did not, Wendell gestured toward the plush armchair on the other side of his desk. The woman stayed by the door for a few seconds more, long enough for his eyebrows to crease, before finally complying to his silent request.
She folded her hands in her lap and sat straight, her eyes nearly pinning the doctor in place though he could not see them. He couldn't see anything of her, not really. Wendell couldn't make out her age or race or figure—not that it would stop him or hold him back, of course. The man shook himself out of his thoughts and focused back on his notes. Every patient was treated equally in the beginning and no amount of uneasy feelings were going to change that. New patients were asked a set of introductory questions so that he could establish something more in depth than what their file could say.
Wendell took a deep breath to steady himself and strengthened his resolve. 'She's probably just as uneasy as I am.' As soon as the thought passed through his mind, Wendell could have sworn he saw her lips twitch in a ghost of a smile. He shifted in his seat, even more disturbed than before, but began as he normally did.
"So," he began as he opened her file, "Miss—?"
He stopped short. The file did not have her name listed. In fact, none of the information had been filled out at all. Confused, the doctor flipped through the pages. Everything was blank without a single marking on the crisp, white stationary. He blinked and set the file aside before going into the archive on his computer. There was nothing about a new patient anywhere.
"What on earth?" he muttered. He looked back up but the currently unnamed woman didn't seem as confused as he was. In fact, her face was as blank as ever. "Well, it appears that Mary didn't send the right file down. It's not that big of an issue but it does cut down our time for the day.
"Okay, let's begin at the very beginning then, shall we? So what is your name?" He asked, his pen poised to write it down. If he wanted to get anywhere he needed to gain her confidence first.
When she said nothing, the doctor looked up, questions on his tongue. However, when he caught sight of her, he felt them roll back down his throat. The woman had cocked her head at him, her lips twisted in a smirk. To Wendell, she looked like a bird of prey watching its next meal scurry around. He had no doubt that he was the prey.
He laughed nervously, his fingers minutely trembling. The doctor let go of the pen and reached to loosen his tie. A shiver wracked up his spine and his throat closed. Coughing, Wendell saw the air grow dewy as a light trail of mist floated from his mouth.
"Wh-what? Did the a/c just go on overdrive or something?" He asked to himself. He turned to the woman, wanting reassurance that he wasn't alone. "You see this, right?"
She did nothing even as a curl of mist escaped her own mouth. Wendell opened his mouth but a sudden wave of heat burned through his stomach before he could say a word. Gasping, he bent over, the heat flowing from his abdomen and up his throat.
"God, do you feel that too?" he asked helplessly. "It's cold for you too, right? Or—or really hot?"
Without waiting for a response, Wendell shrugged his jacket off and tossed it to the floor. He reached up and nearly ripped his tie off in his haste to rid himself of the overflowing feeling of heat. However, just as he managed to loosen his tie off completely, another bout of cold had him shaking.
"Oh-okay, we'll have to cut this short here soon. There's ob-obviously something wrong with the heater." His teeth clacked together but he carried on through the simultaneous presses of cold and heat. "Now, ma'am, what is your name, a-age, and ethnicity?" The doctor managed to bite out the question and looked toward her for the answers.
Instead of answers, however, he just got more questions. The woman said nothing at all as she straightened back up only to lean back against the seat. She crossed one leg over the other, her smirk still turning her lips into a mocking resemblance of an actual smile, and just watched him. Wendell could not see her eyes but he could feel them - and he felt like nothing more than an experiment she was dying to see the result of. His previous uneasiness seeped back into him and the doctor wondered if he should have sent her on her way immediately.
'I can't make her leave now, that'd be against conduct. I only need to last another,' his eyes flashed to the time on his computer, 'half an hour. I can last that long. Just half an hour before this torture is over and I can get maintenance in here. Maybe our next meeting will be better suited for what I had intended.'
Wendell reached into one of his drawers and grabbed a small bottle of water. He knew that drinking too much coffee was never ideal and that water was always the best to have on hand. Gulping it down in one go, Wendell gasped before setting the bottle aside. He reached over and took out another bottle.
"Would you like one?" he asked, the plastic bottle growing colder in his shaking hand.
Her lips smoothed into an actual smile. It was all lip, plush and deep red, and the doctor's eyes lingered on her mouth. He shifted forward and her smile peeled back, revealing a sliver of teeth. The doctor jerked back, a yelp nearly escaping his mouth. Her teeth were nothing but points, sharp fangs in place of normal front teeth.
He violently shook his head and, when he looked again, her mouth had closed. Wendell laughed and reached to fidget with his tie only to realize it wasn't there as his fingers made contact with his throat. "Uh, sorry about that, I was just—I just thought that I had, uh, had saw... something. It's - it was nothing, um, right! Let's just skip the form, shall we? The proper folder has to be around here somewhere and it would be rude of us to make you fill out another one while you're already here."
The doctor reached back to the file and shifted through the blank pages. Page by page, he got rid of all the unmarked paper and placed them in a pile to resort later. However, as he went through the entire file, Wendell grew more and more frantic as there wasn't a single sheet of paper with writing on it. All the papers that had been in the file were now spread across his desk in an unorganized mess. The movement out of the corner of his eye did not catch his attention until he got to the end of the folder, his hands fully shaking as he tried to comprehend what had happened.
Wendell pushed back from his desk and made to stand but froze when he finally noticed that the woman had stood. Instead of sitting in the chair, her body as straight as a crucifix, the woman now stood by his bookshelf. Eyes trained on her hands, the doctor watched as she slowly ran her finger down spine after spine, his own back tensing up with each downward stroke.
Breath coming out as deep and fast pants, Wendell gulped down his nerves and steeled himself. "A-apparently there are no filled records on file of your appointment here...," he trailed off as she paused on one of the books. She had reached her hand out and curled her fingers around it; from what he could see, she had chose one of his books on the mind and soul.
He opened his mouth to speak but slowly closed it. There was no information on her that he could reach and, as a violent shudder raced through him, nothing odd had happened until she had entered his office. Relaxing back into his chair, Wendell slowly asked, "Is there something that caught your attention?"
The doctor carefully reached for the knife hidden away in his desk. He pulled it free from its home silently, the blade clean and wickedly sharp - he had made to sure to sharpen it from the last time he had used it. Wendell gripped it lightly and held it loosely in his right hand. "Perhaps it would be best if we rescheduled for another time."
Hands cradling the book as if it were a babe, the woman opened her mouth and finally began to speak. "Oh, doctor," she tsked. Her teeth, sharp like before, sharp like fangs, sharp like his knife, flashed in the light. She grinned, her bloody lips showcasing her teeth as if their deadly points were on display. "Oh what a naughty boy you've been, Wendell. You humans have always been curious, little things but I've never witnessed one so cute before."
"W-what? Excuse me?" The doctor wasn't too sure what she was going on about but her very voice unsettled him. It seemed to press into his skin and latch onto his blood, her words the hooks used to pierce through fat and muscle.
"Should I be offended that you don't recognize me?" The woman pouted and the sight had him grimacing. "My, my, my! And here I thought we were close."
Wendell's grip tightened on the handle until his knuckles grew white. He shifted even further from her but the woman only laughed at his attempt for distance. The doctor glanced to the clock and then to the door before looking back toward the smiling woman. He was able to force a slight smile and said, "Our time is up now. I see that you might have deep delusions so I must really recommend—"
Suddenly she was right in front of him, as if she had teleported from her spot by his bookcase. She slammed the book down on his desk, the word psyche staring up at him in bold lettering. Wendell jumped up at her appearance and noise, his knife finally rising from its hiding place. He held it out in front of him with a steady hand, the tip pointed straight between the woman's eyes, his lips curled back into a demented snarl.
"I don't know what you think you're doing or who you think you are, but I think it'd be best for the both of us if you left."
In the face of his threat, all she did was laugh. It was high and screeching - as if he was the funniest thing she'd ever seen. "Oh, it will take much more than that to get me to leave. You would know that if you paid more attention, but I can't fault a human for that."
Wendell bared his teeth and stepped back, his back nearly hitting the wall. "Paid more attention? What the fuck are you going on about?"
"Why, Wendell," she purred, her hands braced on the desk as she leaned forward. Her throat was only an inch away from the knife point. "You'd think you'd be familiar with the face of death. After all, you've tasted blood before - don't deny it."
The doctor knew he couldn't simply call her crazy while he was the one holding the knife. He gritted his teeth and stayed silent, sweat beading at the crown of his head.
She laughed again, this time a deep chuckle that rasped across his skin like sandpaper. Another shiver took hold of his spine but it didn't let go; it was as if someone had laid across his back and had begun to sob—or laugh along with her. As her laughter rose to a fever pitch the room began to distort and twist, the edges of the walls folding in on themselves as if everything had been made out of melted candle wax.
Wendell's head flashed from side to side as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He looked down at the floor and horror filled his heart and coated his throat as even the ground had begun to bubble and melt. He looked back up to the woman and openly gaped, the knife trembling in his active fear.
The woman's clothing had began to melt with the room, her headdress whipping around her head in thickening strands until he could clearly see two shining fangs protruding from each thick rope. Soon hissing filled the room and was the only noise Wendell could hear over the sound of his own booming heart as her hair became a nest of snakes. A shiver of pure terror ran down his arm, the tremor loosening his grip enough to send his knife flying. Wendell stood there frozen as her dress slowly darkened until it was literally dripping onto the floor.
His desk soon joined the floor and it didn't take long until it had melted into the linoleum tile. With the desk gone there was nothing in between him and the snake woman. She grinned and stepped forward, her red dress creating a puddle of liquid as she moved. It only took Wendell a few seconds before he realized that what had soaked her dress was blood and he scurried backwards within seconds. However he had nowhere to go as his back hit the wall in moments; Wendell began to slide down the wall, all the strength in his legs gone.
Wendell, his face tilted upward and eyes wide and dull, had sentenced himself to watching her as she inched closer to him. Her arms reached out to him as if to embrace him and it was in that moment that he seized the knife again and launched himself forward. With both hands Wendell managed to wedge the blade in her stomach before he scrambled to the door. When he realized that the handle would not budge underneath any force, the doctor began to ram into the door with his shoulder. He could hear the woman stand behind him and he became more and more desperate to knock the door down but it simply would not bend. He turned back, his back pressed firmly against the door, and watched and horrified awe as the she-monster easily slid the knife from her abdomen.
"Now, now, Wendell, that was very rude of you to do." Though her hair writhed, alive, and her eyes were burning pits of devil flame and her dress was nothing but bloodied cloth, her voice sounded like any other woman's. "You know what it reminds me of, Wendell?"
The man just continue to breath heavily. She sighed before whipping an arm out, the knife flying from her hand and embedding itself into Wendell's left shoulder. He cried out and hunched over, the moment adding even more pain to the piercing shriek in his shoulder. Blood flowed freely from the wound, dying his shirt and replicating the woman's own dress.
As he whimpered, one of his shaking hands reaching up to hopefully yank the knife out, she continued on. "This reminds me of that lovely boy just last month. You remember Jacob, don't you? You should. After all you were his closest friend—depression can make a person feel all alone and you helped him. You were just so sweet to him." She spit the words out and stepped closer. Images of young Jacob flooded Wendell's mind; a young man barely into his 20's with a well of depression so deep he couldn't see the bottom of it. He had never had such an easy victim. "He trusted you with his life and he paid for it. You stabbed him to death and cut him to pieces; no one would think twice of the mentally ill boy who ran away, right?
The knife Wendell had been pathetically pulling on suddenly shot out of his shoulder and turned to his other shoulder. In a second it had switched shoulders and Wendell let out a sob of pain and dry heaved at the feeling. However, even through the pain, Wendell was able to clearly hear her next words.
"Or what about that nice, little blind girl? Sarah was only 13 when you brought her on that little trip of yours—but you already knew that. You knew she could do nothing but cry for help as you assaulted her out in those woods and then left her die, sobbing out her heart for someone, anyone, to come and help her." She stepped closer yet again. "You were almost caught too - Sarah's dear mother definitely suspected you of something. And yet you still got away; it's not hard to imagine a blind girl could wander too deep into a forest she often played around, after all."
By then she was almost right on top of Wendell, who had reverted to glaring and grunting in pain. The woman reached out and pressed her weight into the knife and his shoulder wound at the same time. Wendell screamed at the pain heaved again. Keeping hands still, the woman began again.
"You were most likely thinking about Lisanna, though. A bright woman who had just turned 18," she whispered, her face only centimeters from his. "She had only wanted a reprieve from her home life; only wanted a bit of counseling to get through the tougher days. And you, Doctor Wendell John Tudor, had raped her for it. Had taken her body as if it belong to you. And when she ran to the roof you pushed her off."
The image of Lisanna, a vibrant black woman whom he had only saw three times before making his move, wavered in front of him. It was like he was there again, watching her body tumble to the ground, his hand still outstretched. He had claimed that she had had a hallucination due to wrongly prescribed pills and had walked off the building herself. Wendell had taken pleasure in the sound of her body hitting the pavement below but with the scene replaying in his ears, he could only gag at the repeated thump, thump, thump.
Slowly, as the screams of patients passed rushed through his ears, his skin began to peel. Cuts, small and thin but deep enough to draw blood, appeared all over his body. Wendell dry heaved again and bit his lip, hoping to keep his stomach in place. However, he couldn't keep his mouth shut for long as his skin began to fall away and dissolve. He cried out and thrashed against her hands and finally begged for her to stop.
Wendell made the mistake of looking down and quite sight of his hands, the flesh nearly completely burned away, leaving only a bloody mass of muscle and gore. He finally threw up and cried out more, sobbing for her to stop the torture and to kill him in the same breath.
All she did was lean forward and whisper in his ear. "You deserve the same amount of mercy you gave those children."
The man cried out and convulsed as his brain finally processed what that meant: he would be stuck there for as long as she liked. Even as he screamed, Wendell tried to throw her off of him but she was too strong for him to move even an inch. He tried to speak but one of her snakes snapped forward the moment he opened his mouth and bit into his tongue. The doctor screamed again, the pitch only rising higher and higher until it finally broke off to a gurgle as the snake wrenched back, a part of his tongue in its mouth.
The nest of snakes fought over the meaty lump as blood flood from his mouth and down his chin. He coughed and spat blood out, staining the woman's dress even more. Wendell sagged forward and the woman leaned back, her head cocked as it had been before.
For a few seconds the woman watched as Wendell still put up a feeble fight and she laughed. True happiness entered her voice and her flame eyes burned a bright green. "There is quite the special place in hell just for you, doctor. It's why I'm here, after all."
Wendell gurgled up more blood and the stream dripped to the floor. She patted his cheek, as if a mother comforting a small child, and cooed, "Do you still not get it? Do you still not know who I am?"
A wounded noise of an animal escaped his throat and she leaned in close again. The woman pulled the knife from his shoulder and followed him down to the ground as he began to slide down the door. She straddled him and placed her hands on both of his cheeks.
"I am Fury - one of the daughters of the Night, sister to Anger and Jealousy. I am She of Homicide and Murder. I am one of the Erinyes, she-monsters sent by the Earth to punish undeserving humans. I am the Furiae Tisiphone. And you, Doctor Wendell John Tudor, have caught my attention." She curled her fingers into his cheeks, her nails piercing the tissue easily. "My sisters will have their fun with you soon enough but you were mine to deal with. And you are mine to kill."
Wendell whimpered one last time, blood spurting from his mouth in a sudden gush. Tisiphone ran her nails down his face, gouging out his cheeks until his entire face was coated in his own blood. The furiae took his head and rammed it into the door before she kissed him on his forehead.
Tisiphone looked into his eyes and breathed, "I can't wait to drink your blood."
She took one hand from his face and, in one swift motion, buried her hand into his chest. Wendell jerked, his eyes locked onto hers. Tisiphone smiled and ripped his heart out.
The man convulsed one last time before finally sagging to the ground. Tisiphone patted him on the cheek on last time before running her fingers through his hair. She sighed and looked at the wet and still-beating heart clutched in her hand. The furiae wondered if humans were ever truly worth the trouble they often caused. She knew they were necessary for the gods' prayers but the chaos they knowingly inflicted was often numerous and extreme.
'It's not like I care either way, though,' the woman thought as she stood. 'I was born to punish them and so punish them I shall.'
Tisiphone looked around the room and, with only a wave of her hand, the room went back to normal. The desk solidified back, her empty file in a neat stack with other out-going folders. The pictures were wiped clean and the walls straightened back up. She looked back to the door and the doctor's body had already been removed, his very presence wiped from the walls of the room. A single thought had her adorning her earlier outfit, Wendell's heart now safely stored away in her temple in the underworld.
With one last glance around the room, Tisiphone nodded and left the room.
She went back down the hallway, the frost long since gone. She went through the door back into the waiting room and it was as if nothing had changed. The receptionist watched her with steady eyes and Tisiphone's lips thinned—it appeared that Psyche had not cleaned up the mess just yet.
When Tisiphone passed Mary again, the young woman ran to the door and sprinted down the hallway to what had been Dr. Tudor's office. There was now no detail to link the room to anyone at all, least of all the young doctor. As Mary stood in the doorway, baffled beyond comprehension, a gruff voice sent her jumping.
"What are you doing just standing in front of that door, Mary? You know I gotta clean that room up for Dr. Olympia!" The woman turned around to come face to face with the janitor. She nodded dumbly and stepped aside. The older man walked passed her and patted her on the shoulder. "Make sure to get some rest, Mary, you looked like you've seen a ghost." The receptionist whimpered and nodded again and left, the janitor's concerned eyes following her as she walked back down to her desk.
'Where was everything?! What happened to Dr. Tudor - where was he? That woman had to have done something to him, he was just there an hour ago!' Mary thought frantically, her mind swirling in a confused mess. 'Though, now that I think of it, I hadn't seen Dr. Tudor anytime lately. Have I? Or did he get laid off? No, he quit. Yeah, that's it. And - and Dr. Olympia is filling in for him. I wonder if she's here already....'
Mary walked back to her desk in a daze, her thoughts bouncing off of each other. However, before she could garner much of a headache more, she was distracted by the sound of the bell. Three women walked in, their bodies covered head to toe in draping, light cloth. Mary smiled and walked around her desk to greet them.
"Oh! You must be Dr. Olympia. Who are your colleagues?"
The first woman smiled and Mary couldn't help but smile back. She spoke, an accent rolling her constants into something softer. "These are my sisters. I am Tisiphone and they are Alecto and Megeara. Please, call us Phi, Alec, and Meg respectively."
Mary nodded but she couldn't help but ask, "Why did you bring your sisters along with you?"
"I may be a good doctor, but I definitely work better with them. After all," the woman said, laughter in her voice, "there is a lot of people here in our area of expertise."
(The Fields of Punishment gained a new soul and Hades grinned.)
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