Chapter 44: Bonk II – The Stick Remembers
Onyx's luminous void-pupils dilated in dread. "W-what…?"
I repeated myself—calm, precise, sharp enough to shear the air but quiet enough not to stir the exhausted Kimchi sleeping atop my chest. "Go. Get. The. Stick."
She froze, as if shackled by an invisible verdict. Though she had never once felt the brunt of the stick's wrath herself, the echoes of its psychic aftermath had travelled down the hivemind's lattice of shared memory. She had tasted its consequence in futures where my "don't talk about eating me" rule had been broken. She had died, reborn, and been bonked many times over in possibility space.
I clarified, voice low but laced with accusation. "Telling me—right before it happened—that I was about to get pelvis-shattering love-fucked to death is not 'helpful foresight.' That was terror. That was psychic whiplash. And whether or not you meant it, it counts as emotional manipulation. Hence…"
I pointed.
