“No! Leave me alone! Get out of my head!”

The horror and repulsion that filled her was organic and instinctual.

(YOU MUST BREED AND MULTIPLY AND FILL THE DARK WATERS WITH YOUR SPAWN)

One of the tentacles rose up out of the water in front of her like a blind, albino worm. She could see that it had suckers not just in single or double or triple rows like ordinary cephalopods, but seemingly dozens and dozens of them opening and closing like hungry, puckering mouths. They were crowded over the underside of the tentacle. They made smacking sounds like kissing lips as they irised open and closed.

It moved in closer to her, water dripping from it in runnels.

A violent, caustic stench came from it that reminded her of rotting grapes fermented to wine and turpentine-soaked rags. Whatever it was, it made her eyes water and her nose run.

In utter, unreasoning fear, she thought: I wish it would just kill me. I want to die. I don’t want to know about the things it wants to teach me.

The water was cold. She felt numb as hypothermia settled in. She wouldn’t last much longer. Already, her mind was losing focus.

The tentacle in front of her got within spitting distance, the sound of its puckering suckers making her skin crawl. It moved in slowly and she steeled herself for the horrid feel of it. She was shaking. Tears ran down her cheeks. Bile bubbled up the back of her throat. It still had not touched her, but now it was so close that she could see tiny pores or something like pores in its even white flesh. When the suckers opened, there was something pink and squirming in each…like a tongue.

That’s what it will taste you with, a hysterical voice in her head cried. A thousand tongues. A thousand-thousand fat pink tongues—

It was too much. Something sheared open inside her and she let out a moan of repulsion. She struck out at it with her fists, punching it three or four times in rapid succession. It was very muscular, firm. But instead of attacking her like she thought it would…and maybe hoped it would…it just withdrew, pulling out of striking distance, but not going away.

The water was nearly up to her shoulders now. It still sprayed from ruptured seams, dripped from the roof. She wiped a sheen of it from her face.

Breathing hard, she said, “What do you want from me?”

(ALICE I AM YOUR MOTHER)

No, no, no. She would not listen to it. She would not hear that booming voice and the awful things it said.

(DON’T FIGHT CHILD DO NOT FIGHT)

(WHEN MY TIME CAME, I RETURNED TO THE SEA AS YOU MUST RETURN)