[https://i.postimg.cc/cCxYHKmN/The-Girl-who-could-taste-time.gif]

Nona was chopping vegetables for her lunch. Distracted, she didn't notice a woman suddenly appearing behind her. A tall, wiry woman of forty with hard brown eyes and thinning dark hair that she wore in a severe bun behind her head sat on the kitchen table eating soup.

Nona continued cutting up carrots into long strips until she heard a voice behind her: 'I never thanked you for the soup you made for me.' She turned to look at the other woman who had just finished speaking and smiled politely before continuing to slice the carrot as if nothing unusual had happened. The older woman watched Nona's hands deftly chop away, then stood from her chair. 'Do you remember me?'

'No.'

'Of course, you don't,' said the woman. 'But I do. You saved me. At least part of me.' Her smile faded slightly, but only briefly. It returned almost immediately. 'Don't you want to know my name?' asked the woman.

'It doesn't matter,' replied Nona.

The woman shrugged and walked over to where Nona still chopped vegetables. She put down her bowl, took the knife out of Nona's hand, and placed it back into its holder beside the sink. 'Ask my name! Please.'

Feeling a strange mix of fear and curiosity, Nona finally gave in. 'Alright, what's your name?'

'My name is Ava.' the woman replied, her voice soft and mysterious. 'Ava Garcia and I'm not just a hallucination, or a coping mechanism to your present trauma or a trick of your mind but a piece of Time you saved within you. A piece of your past that has been locked away, hidden deep within your subconscious. You saved me once, and now I'm here to return the favour.'

Nona's confusion only grew. 'What are you talking about? What favour?'

'You made a very cosy soup, just like my grandma used to cook.' Ava smiled warmly, recalling the memory. 'That soup brought me warmth and comfort in a time of darkness. At a time, the world was ending, and it forged a connection between us. Now, I'm here to help you through your own difficult times. Eske would like me to take care of you as you took care of us.'

Nona frowned, trying to understand the situation. 'I don't remember any of this. How can you be a part of my past?'

'Time is a tricky thing, Nona. It's possible that our meeting hasn't happened yet or already has. Your mind has its own timeline,' Ava explained. 'The question is, what's the rabbit's favourite soup?'

Nona stared blankly at her. 'Ava...what do you mean by the rabbit?'

'There's an old story. About a girl who could taste time, and when she didn't like the flavour, she would set the dish aside. So there was a rumour she would knock on people's doors, giving away cans of soup. Why did she do that?'

'Why?' Nona repeated, dumbfounded. 'I...I don't know why.'

'None of them looked at the girl, nor did they thank her. Just like me, I never thanked you, and I'm sorry.' Ava shook her head sadly.

'This conversation isn't helping me at all. How is making soup going to help me get out of here?' Nona asked.

'What is the rabbit's favourite soup?' Ava asked again.

Nona was furious and slammed her hands over the sink's edge. 'How am I supposed to know?!' she shouted angrily. 'I don't fucking care what he likes or dislikes! I want him fucking dead for good! I want him to disappear. To be gone! He is a fucking cancer to my existence! I want him to have never existed! I don't want to feed him ever again!'

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Ava laughed gently. 'You are closer.'

Nona looked at Ava's image, crumbling into black dust floating against the dim light of the kitchen. She mumbled to herself: 'Feed him again. Feed him again... feed him what?'

She grabbed hold of the edge of the sink and pulled herself upright. Nona's face grew pale as the realization hit her. 'The rabbit... it's not a real rabbit, is it?' she whispered, her voice trembling.

Ava's fading image smiled enigmatically. Her mind raced, and she began to understand the hidden meaning behind Ava's cryptic words. The rabbit was a metaphor, a symbol of her captor, the man who held her prisoner. To break free, she needed to face him, to feed him. And remembering Penny's words: 'What happens to a rabbit that is overfed?'

As Ava's form disappeared completely, Nona took a deep breath and resumed preparing her meal.

The atmosphere was filled with tension as she hurriedly tried to finish her simple dish. The air was heavy with the scent of herbs and spices, and the sound of her knife chopping echoed throughout the room. Nona was focused on her task, but Ava's words echoed in her mind.

Her hands moved quickly and skillfully over the cutting board. In a split second, everything changed.

Her concentration wavered for just a moment, and the knife slipped from the carrot she was dicing. The razor-sharp blade sliced through the air and found its new target in a horrifying instant. Nona's own finger.

Blood spurted out as the knife cleanly severed her finger just above the knuckle. The pain was immediate and intense, a burning sensation that shot up her arm like lightning. Nona's eyes widened in shock and disbelief, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened. She stared at her hand, watching as the blood poured from the wound, pooling on the cutting board and dripping onto the floor. Her severed finger lay on the cutting board, still surrounded by the diced carrot, now stained red with her blood. The room was filled with a sudden, deafening silence, broken only by the sound of Nona's panicked breathing and her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

Nona, stunned by the sight of her severed finger, felt a strange tingling sensation in her wounded hand. She looked down, almost expecting the pain to worsen, but instead, she witnessed something extraordinary unfolding before her eyes. The blood flow from the wound seemed to slow down, and the torn flesh began to crawl and knit itself back together. The raw, exposed bone started to regenerate, the pale white substance emerging from the wound and growing outward. Muscles, tendons, and nerves followed suit, weaving themselves back into place like a masterful tapestry of human anatomy mixed with a trail of black particles. The sensation in Nona's hand was a bizarre mixture of pain and relief as if her body was healing itself at an unprecedented rate. As the finger grew, the tingling intensified, sending shivers up her spine. The skin started to form next, stretching over the newly regenerated tissue like a protective glove enveloping her reborn finger.

Finally, the process completed itself, and Nona stared at her fully restored finger in awe. The skin was unblemished, the nail pristine, and she could flex and bend the finger as if it had never been severed in the first place. Nona looked at her chopped finger over the cupboard and wondered what she could do with it.

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