You move to pull Gerard back as your brother stands dumbfounded. As you stride forward, the ground beneath you goes soft. The filth seems to suck you in with each step, slowing your progress until you suddenly find yourself knee-deep and unable to move. The more you try to pull yourself from the muck, the tighter its grip becomes. You turn your head and look to your brother for help. He remains transfixed, staring into space. You call out to him, but he does not respond.

When you turn your head back around to face forward, you find yourself staring at the pudgy, scuffed-up knees of an overweight seven-year-old girl in a tattered pink Victorian dress. She does not sink into the ground as you do. She plops down onto her knees and brings her face close to yours. Her brown eyes glimmer and she grins broadly, baring rotten, broken teeth. She opens her jaw, and the smell of death fills your nostrils. She opens it wider and wider, far greater than any human mandible could ever stretch. The dark void of her maw and the stench of decay overwhelm you.

The world goes black.