Interlude

April Chase was always a smart girl. A very smart girl.


One night, after work, she was assaulted. The muggers couldn't have been older than seventeen, but they had knives and she didn't. They took what they wanted from her and more. If she had been the April Chase that had killed her father, the April Chase that had killed her friend's boyfriend, the April Chase that had killed her lecherous professor, she would have fought back, she would have killed them all.


But she wasn't. She didn't kill her father or her friend's boyfriend or her professor. And she didn't kill those muggers. Instead, a part of her died.


And after she had told the police, after she had filled out a report, she went back home and looked at herself in front of the mirror.


And she gave herself over to me.


She swore to herself that something like that would never happen again. She didn't care about anyone else. She would only care for herself.


And I am putting that to the test.


Hello, April Chase.


I am your true mother.


I am the Mother of Snakes.