Tears- real tears burned her cheeks the way she remembered they could, except now their taste was bittersweet instead of pure uncut acid. They were tears of loss and rage, fueled by her own particular horror, but also the body she was housed in. As soon as the momentary target of her fury disappeared from view, the anger tsunami subsided and left behind the gnarled, mangled debris that was raw pain. And fear.
Lisa's bare legs gave from under her, bending to the knees in the grass, followed by elbows and forehead. Her face twisted, contorted into a hard, soundless wail that finally broke free as she rolled to her side. There, tucked in the fetal position, she sobbed with all the despair in the whole world. The despair of a hopelessly lost child.
"Butcher, Baker, Nightmare Maker," the thing rasped, shaking on the ground. "With his knives... his fire.. his bed..." Lisa's body gulped air, and tucked into herself even tighter, smearing mud and grass stains into her tears and sallow skin.
"MAMMAAA," it wailed, pathetically. "Mammaa... Mamma where are you?!"