Steel pins like sharpened broomsticks crunching through my forearms. Both wrists pop out of joint. Something shatters.

I shriek forever, breathless as the kid impales me through the ankles and spreads my legs apart, but she only smiles grimly. Does she even hear me?

“...fairy's nervous system is rudimentary,” the teacher drones from the blackboard, “...what you're seeing… only a reaction to stimuli.”

On the projector, a line drawing just like me. Dewinged, spread-eagle, a dotted line up her belly. Then sliced open, viscera spread around her like offerings.

Above me, the gleam of rusty scissors. My vision clouds. No.