Brain damage. Gutted from the back. Broken hip, broken hand, a chunk of her shoulder ripped open by hands that left bloody finger-shaped dents in her skin. Scalp torn up. Bleeding out from the neck.

It would be a lie to say it doesn't hurt.

Before she lost motor control entirely Eva managed to shove Ammit's body from her hands, and the scuffle of trampling feet kicked it several feet away from her. A crime free of evidence, as long as Sobek can't smell it on her breath. If she even has breath by the time he arrives.

It's like swimming. She feels weightless, almost, weightless and yet every muscle is knotted up in agony, as if her skeleton is some star with its own field of gravity and every bit of her body is pulling itself closer to it.

She's dying. She can feel her heart slushing around inside, laborious and feeble. With her eye closed she can see in vivid detail the anatomy of her pain like lightning superimposed on a cloudy red sky. She wants to conjure up her family's face as her last image and all she can manage is this landscape of her injuries. A thunderbolt up her spine, spiderwebs of light down her legs.

She opens her eye again and the mist remains, bloody and thick. Images dip in and out of her view. She would ask God to keep her son safe if her mind could articulate the emotion.

She's conscious just until she sees Sobek's feet at the doorway and then she's off in this red fog.