It didn't hurt, not the way they were used to, when the spoon slid past their lower lid.

Sickening, the feel of the spoon gliding into the socket. Immense pressure, in their eye, in the sole of their foot, in a thread pulled taut across their body. But not unbearable. Not until their vision split, one screen on Radio and the other on the floor.

Dizzying. Headache splitting. Vertigo seized them and brought with it a volley of retching.

The shadow dwellers held them in place. Eye-thread-foot.

They were almost grateful when the spoon levered and struck the top of their socket with a thok that cut off the floor feed. Warmth flooded down their cheek, drenching their hair. And then the pain began in earnest.

Snap—the thread. A hundred thousand fire ants swarmed the clammy, cavernous socket. Biting, burrowing, ripping at the thing lodged there.

Screaming replaced the retching.

Then, a tug.

Then, the cold. Something vital now missing. The gap sucking on dank air.

Then, their other eye went dark, too.