I glance at Squishy. Its little eyes are lines like it's suspicious. "I'm sorry," I whisper, stepping toward it, not bothering to cover my chest. Kind of difficult to be shy around something after you'd become it.

When I reach out to touch it again, it stretches forward to rub itself against me. I guess it forgives me. The line-mouth squiggles as I press my finger against its cheek. It reminds me of a kitten purring, and again I'm overwhelmed by cuteness. I almost want to pick it up and hold it against me, but I remember how much the slime mind loves the stone cubbyhole space. I wouldn’t take it away from its happy place.

No message appears this time. Which makes sense. I've already acquired it. And my heart skips a beat. I can become a slime whenever I want; how is that not cool? And a squirrel too, I suppose. But that was freaky, whereas being a slime was very cozy... until I set things on fire.

The woman comes back a few minutes later. The gash on her forehead is gone. She's wearing a dark, full-sleeve gown that goes down to her knees. She's carrying a white gown in her hands. Her shadows aren’t covering her feet anymore, and the brown skin of her legs and feet glow warmly in the orange light. "I don't keep much here, but this'll do for now. Just don't set it on fire too."

She eyes my chest and my navel, and she seems kind of disappointed. I blush, realizing she's inspecting my sickly, bony form. My ribs and hip bones are too pronounced. I'm thinner than a sheet of paper. It's not a healthy look.

I accept the gown, murmur a thank you, and turn away to slip it over my head. I'm grateful to have it on. Grateful that transforming into a slime and back got rid of all the mud and grime, and I'm fairly clean. The gown is soft. It's too big on me, going down to my ankles rather than stopping at my knees like the woman's. And the neckline is rather deep on me, but it hides my flat chest. I roll the sleeves up. It's baggy. I like it. It hides me.

"You look like you haven't eaten in weeks," she says. Her voice is sharp. There's a hint of judgment, and I can't help but feel ashamed. Like I've let her down. She crouches down and reaches into her shadow, her hand slipping through the floor like it's a pool of dark water. She picks something up and holds it out for me to take.

I stare blankly. It looks like a loaf of bread, but it seems hard, like a block of cheese.

She thrusts it into my hand. "Eat. It's bitter but filling. All the nutrition you need, and Goddess knows you need some."

Then she walks over to the table and pulls out a box from a shelf. Dust swirls, billowing as she sets it down heavily on the table.

"I wish I had my chair," she says under her breath. Taking off the lid, she reveals some kind of ointment in a flask. She dabs it onto her hand, then her face. She brings it to Squishy, and it does a little jiggly dance as she pours a few drops over its top. The scent of olives fills the room. "Replenishing balm," she says, as though that explains everything. Then she glances at me still holding what she'd given me. "Eat!"

This time, it's a powerful command, and I can't ignore it. I bring the lump to my mouth and bite off the tiniest bit, and it pulls away like string cheese. The taste is bitter, but it also reminds me of coffee, and my stomach growls. I eat some more.

"Make it last," she says. "That's all I have left." She puts away the box and then says she's going upstairs. "I'm tired. It's been a long night. And I'll figure out what to do with you in the morning if you're still here."

I swallow hard, trying to make myself appear as small and nonexistent as possible.

"There's a chamber pot in there." She pauses at the stairs and gestures to a little door built into its side. I hadn't noticed it before; it blends right into the wood. She sighs. "Few rules to survive. Don't spread the curtain no matter what. And if anyone knocks, don't open it. Don't listen to it. Rhinestone might show up, but he’s not gonna knock or anything. So, you don’t have to open the door, no matter what." With another passing glance at the ruined chair, she says goodnight firmly, then vanishes upstairs.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Goodnight," I whisper back, wondering what to do now. Then I realize I haven’t even asked her for her name. I stand around feeling listless and lost.

I'm not even sure what time it is. If time is the same here. The weather was strange. The creatures were stranger. And words existed in my head, words and thoughts that weren't quite mine. How do you keep time in a world like this? At this point, I'm pretty sure it's not a dream. I'm really here. And I have powers.

Outside, the storm continues raging. And now that I'm inside the cottage, it's rather soothing. I'm inside a cocoon of relaxing sounds. Like being at home, sitting by the windows, and watching the city get drenched. I can't do that here because of the shelves, but through the books, through the dusty windows, I glimpse enough of the vast dark outside. The whole room smells of olives, earthy and sweet.

I feel much better with dry clothes and some food inside me, and I'm about halfway through the brown lump before I remember she told me to pace myself. It doesn't taste good. Bitter. Like coffee without any sugar. Soily like mushrooms. Maybe that's why I like it. It's a punishment that's also quenching my hunger and exhaustion.

I guess I'll just sleep on the floor. But my muddy footprints are all over; I'd tracked in quite a bit, and it was drying on the hardwood. The woman hadn't brought in any at all.

Using a dusty rag I find at the bottom of a shelf, I get to cleaning. On my hands and knees with the gown rolled up so it won’t get dirty. I wipe away the mud and try my best to rub off the scorch marks. That doesn't work, but once the floor is clear, or as clear as it could be with everything caked in dust, I shove the rag into the pile of wood and ashes that's left of the chair.

Then I dust off my gown and pace back and forth for a while. Not thinking or anything. Just waiting. I'm good at waiting. My mind is empty. Better empty than panicking. Better empty than lonely.

I touch the curtain. It's a heavy dark cloth, and I'm tempted to pull it open. Surely, it's just a wall on the other side? Or maybe an entrance to the lighthouse. But something feels rather cold about it. Cold like the snowy woods, so I leave it be. Her cottage; her rules.

I stroke the backs of some books. There are so many, and I wonder what's inside. Jia was the one who loved books. She could spend hours and hours reading, and sometimes she'd read to me. I was always a bigger fan of the covers and the art. But I leave the woman's books alone. I'm too afraid to take these out and open them because they seem ancient. What if the pages fall apart? What if I somehow set them on fire? I don't need her yelling or pointing another shadow sword at me if I ruin them. There are a bunch of boxes too, covered in dust, untouched for ages.

Squishy's light fades after a while. I sit beside it, leaning against the cobblestones of the makeshift cubby that serves as the fireplace. Before long, its mouth is gentle squiggles, like it's snoring. Its eyes are flat lines again, and I know it's asleep. I really want to pinch its cheeks. For a while, I sit there, thinking about nothing, running my hands through my hair and counting how many strands come away, wondering what I would've made for dinner if this had been a normal day. Maybe a microwaved Pop-tart or something. Or toast. Toast is easy and good.

It's when I start to feel the sweet embrace of sleep that the knocking starts. It jolts me awake. A crazy hammering, like someone heavy slamming against the door with enough force to wake the dead.

A voice rings out, loud and clear. A man's voice shouting at the top of his lungs. Like he's being chased by a monster or something. The desperation is palpable. "I know you're in there, girl! I know the witch has a guest! Let me in. You can let me in! Just unlock the latch and let me in!"

I flinch violently, not even daring to breathe. Squishy sleeps undisturbed, and I glance at the stairs hoping the woman would come back down to deal with this.

"Be a darling and let me in! I'll give you anything you want. Anything! I'll bring your sister back! She misses you so much..."

That squeezes my heart. I shake my head. The woman told me not to open the door no matter what. This must be some kind of trick. An evil spirit or something.

Then I hear her. Just like I did that day in the hospital. Or hours ago when I came home to find the apartment ransacked. Jia's voice comes from the other side of the door, and I swear she’s right outside.

"Sam? It's me. Could you let me in? It's raining so hard and I don't want to get sick again."