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Summary
He still had nightmares about it, that day when he and his sister had been clutched in Bill’s fist, the burning sensation of his otherworldly flesh burning against their skin until scorch marks burned through his vest and scarred his skin. There was the smell of burning wool as Mabel’s apocalypse sweater was razed to ash, her molecules disintegrating before she even had the chance to say goodbye.
And then he was alone.
or
What if Mabel had died in weirdmaggedon?