What isn't real can't hurt you. What isn't real can't hurt you. What isn't real can't hurt you.
The fish lady's webbed hands, undoubtedly clawlike, scythe through the doctor's coat as though she's nothing more than a ghost. She can't be real. If he squints his eyes shut and shakes his head and waits for the medicine to work, to fix him like they said it would (is medicine magic? we know that it's not) but he still flinches when she tells him to tell them she's real.
What isn't real can't hurt you.
"What's it doing right now?"
What isn't real can't hurt you.
He glances at her once more - nervous, blindingly terrified - and then back to his feet, bare and cold against the floor.
"She..." He has to wet his lips to try again, his voice tremulous and quavering. "It - it says to tell you it's real."
"You know it isn't real." The doctor's response is immediate, and stern. "You know that. Don't you?"
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The fish lady's webbed hands, undoubtedly clawlike, scythe through the doctor's coat as though she's nothing more than a ghost. She can't be real. If he squints his eyes shut and shakes his head and waits for the medicine to work, to fix him like they said it would (is medicine magic? we know that it's not) but he still flinches when she tells him to tell them she's real.
What isn't real can't hurt you.
"What's it doing right now?"
What isn't real can't hurt you.
He glances at her once more - nervous, blindingly terrified - and then back to his feet, bare and cold against the floor.
"She..." He has to wet his lips to try again, his voice tremulous and quavering. "It - it says to tell you it's real."
"You know it isn't real." The doctor's response is immediate, and stern. "You know that. Don't you?"
Another pause.
Another nod.