The Monster Dentist of Apocalypse

Summary

The world ended not with a bang, but with a slow, suffocating decay. And in the middle of it, I was kneeling on the bed, my hands buried in the thick, coarse fur of my boyfriend’s neck, trying to soothe him. My fingers glowed with a faint, pulsing blue—my "gift," if you could call it that. I was a sponge for pain, a sensory empath who could pull the agony out of someone else and tuck it into my own marrow.

Suddenly, my mind wasn't my own.

A jagged stream of text, like a hijacked social media feed, flickered across my consciousness.