She remembered how her friend used to say fear was an acronym for
False Evidence Appearing Real.
Another one she had come across—
Fuck Everything and Run.
She was, at present, beyond the scope and warrant of both acronyms.
Real and unreal no longer mattered; running was no longer an option.
The truth moved toward her very simply, with a sweetly fatal air
of almost solemn grace, and the sense of screamless terror which had collected
at the base of her spine since she was a child
stalked its way up to her brain,
where she was forced to watch
the softly flickering projection
of the girl on the screen
who could have been,
or perhaps was,