Thanks for reviews, guys! I'm sorry if I didn't answer all of them and I'm sorry I can't promise consistent updates, but I'll do my best!
If you want a cool song to listen to, I listened to "Year of Silence" by Crystal Castles while I wrote most of this.
There is fear in her heart and throat and vision, but Coraline does not stop running.
Tree roots stretch above her head, giant-sized. She clambers over skyscraper piles of boulders. She does not tire. It is impossible to tire in this world while she is at play.
The Other Mother is chasing her.
It's a game, Coraline knows, and it's meant to be fun and it's not supposed to matter if she wins or lose, but
but-
but it's not a game, this isn't just a game to her, because her plan requires her to win-
and one of the rules is that the Other Mother cannot find out.
She turns too fast, bangs into the wall and bruises her shoulders on brick. The strained breathing scratches her throat. Her body takes a second to rest against the wall even though her mind screams for her to run.
"I'm coming, Coraline," the Other Mother calls, and Coraline glances back to see a mess of dripping-ink limbs.
She starts running again. Her blue shoes are the only light in the otherwise dark of the maze. They illuminate the path in front of her, showing off footprints of long-ago daydreams. The light and shadows are meant to make the Labyrinth feel like an adventure, Coraline is sure.
"Coraline! I'm getting closer, Coraline!" the Other Mother laughs.
This kind of game was fun once.
The wall looms ahead of her. Dead end. She swallows and turn to face the approaching Other Mother. Her plan was to win. She won't get out of her unless she wins.
"I won!" the Other Mother says, slinking closer to her as the silken spider legs mold into thighs and twist-thin arms. "Nice try, Coraline-"
But Coraline ducks past her, sliding on her knees over the rubble, scrambling to her feet and fleeing, stumbling in the opposite direction. Blood dribbles down her legs.
The Other Mother gasps behind her. "Coraline, it's just a game. Don't hurt yourself!"
"Well," Coraline calls back, trying to keep her tone light and jovial, "I said I was going to win, didn't I?"
She hears the Other Mother sniff, imagines the excitement in her eyes at the smell of Coraline's blood, and maybe the Other Mother understands there is more at stake here than whether or not Coraline gets the Winner's Crown, maybe she doesn't know that Coraline is awake and real again behind her black button eyes, but regardless she comes after her.
Coraline hears rubble shift as the maze collapses behind her, as the Other Mother moves with wicked speed, but it's too late, Coraline has already caught the flash of yellow light, and she turns a corner and there, there, there is the exit, and she sprints and catches the sunlight and topples free of the brick and into the smoothly oversaturated grass and collapses in a fit of fake laughter.
The Other Mother swarms to the edge of the maze, and then stops to transform back into the humanoid creature that so resembles her mother back home in the real world, except for the buttons.
"Well done, Coraline," the Other Mother says with a bit of a huff. "I guess you won after all, although I don't know why you felt the need to hurt yourself in order to do so. Why don't we go back to the house and get you bandaged up?"
"Not so fast." Coraline does spare a quick glance downward, and is relieved to see that her blood is still red and not the thick black slime. "I won, didn't I?"
She flounces to her feet, acting like the nine-year-old child she's supposed to be, sticking out her hand.
"I won," she says. "That means I get the winner's crown."
The Other Mother smiles, indulgently. "I've spoiled you, haven't I? I'm a bad mother."
Coraline grins. "Yes, you have. Now give me my crown."
The crown is a watercolor wash of yellows and blues, vibrant and blinding. Every time she wins one of their games, she gets to wear the crown for the rest of the day. It comes from the Other Mother, and it is beautiful and made of metal, and the thing is her only hope.
The Other Mother smiles and begins to twine her fingers through the air, creating patterns of golden-white. For a few seconds, Coraline is captivated. The Other Mother moves her hands with the same flicks and snaps as she does when she's creating worlds. Slowly, the metal becomes real.
The fear is back, choking her throat and weighing her limbs down. She's staring at the crown with that stupid fake smile on her face, and she wants to give in give up but she can't, she can't anymore, she has to win or she'll never get home.
So she gives no indication of the fear under the surface, just holds out her hands to receive her crown. It's warm from friction and supernatural energy. She smiles again and brains the Other Mother with it.
The Other Mother staggers back, and Coraline is on her, smashing the crown into her over and over until the black sludge gushes down her face, staining the white skin. The Other Mother collapses, and she's screaming and crying and Coraline bashes her teeth in with the crown. Her wrist aches from the riccochet, but she doesn't pause, doesn't hesitate, just reaches.
Inside that black mouth, fingers digging into flesh and scratches wherever she can, and the Other Mother grabs her, claws digging into her back and flesh-
-so Coraline hits her again and keeps grabbing, feeling around inside, and it's horribly cold and dry inside this person's body, although, although she was never real
-and the Other Mother is still screaming, and broken teeth gnash into her skin
and
and it hurts
and she's so afraid
but she's lost mostly everything now, lost her friends and her eyes and probably her soul and she has nothing left to hold onto so she keeps grabbing inside until her fingers close around the key.
The Other Mother screams again, and teeth bite down to the bone. Coraline rips her arm free, and screams, too, because it hurts.
She bashes the crown into the Other Mother's head one more time, knocking her back, and then she turns and runs.
Her Other Father is in the kitchen, and he turns to her with a smile on his face when she enters the house, calling, "Hullo, Coraline, are you hungry-" and she blows past him and towards the Door.
Her hands shake as she tries to hold the key, and it's probably a combination of the blood loss and adrenaline. She hears a slithering, scratching sound outside the house, and the panic rises until she can't think but she fits the key in the lock and starts to turn it.
And suddenly there are rats in the room, swarming towards her and over her legs and up over her torso. She screams and tries to shake them off, but they bite deep into her skin, holding on, a whole pack, biting into her neck. She thrashes wildly, trying to throw them off and they BITE INTO HER and they WON'T GET OFF and she screams and sobs and they're singing
We are shadows but we are starving
We are starving in the dark
We were here when you were weak
And we will strike when you dissolve
Their voices claw into her ears, and they bite at any exposed flesh, and now they swarm up her face and tear into her cheeks, avoiding, always avoiding, her button eyes.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees something that might have once been the Other Mother. A mess of black and white lines, scribbling closer and closer.
She forces the door open and into the tunnel beyond, slamming it shut, and the rats are are still on her.
She screams but keeps her head and turns the key in the lock just before a thump shudders the door. A rat tears open her cheek, and she feels warmth gush down her cheek. She slaps at them, sobbing, begging, but they don't leave her so she crawls wildly, feeling her way in the living, breathing, darkness, which is at least cool against her eyes after so much bright.
The door in front of her is locked. She fumbles with the key, sobbing again, but there must be a god because it turns open and she stumbles into her flat and shuts the door behind her, locking it and dropping the key to the carpet.
And the rats are still on her.
Singing and biting,
and she can't handle it anymore, she stands up and starts to smack at them, stomping on them with her blue shoes.
Vicious satisfaction hits her as the bones crack underneath her, as flesh bursts open and they finally, finally stop singing.
She collapses back against the wall, everything trembling. Her cuts are dripping and she probably has, like, fucking rabies or something.
But it's okay, it's all okay, because the rats are dead and the door is locked and she's back home.
She's back home.
Even though she can tell from the silence echoing through the walls that she is absolutely alone in the flat.