Never woke up

She asked no questions, there was no time, “What do we do?”

Paul looked at his hands, a look of fear and wonder dancing across his face, “It's still in me. I can feel it. It got left behind...”

He clenched his fists, shaking away the sorrow, a new resolve washing over him, “Take me to Tal'shen.”

They ran, coming across Tal'shen, who now looked like a clustered blob of mangled twisting flesh with tentacles stemming out from all sides and a single beak like mouth, gaping wide as it swallowed whole victims in the blood laden streets.

Paul breathed deep, closing his eyes before approaching the beast. Maya could only watch.

Paul spread out his arms....

Tal'shen grasped him, dangling him above his mouth.

Just then, tears filled Paul's eyes as he began to remember. He remembered the woman winking at him when he was 17; she looked just like Maya. He remembered why he came to London, why he got on the train, but most of all, he remember the redheaded epileptic.

With one bite, Paul was gone.

Tal'shen soon began howling in pain, it's skin bubbling. Within seconds, Tal'shen was no more but a splattered mess of erupted innards and rainbow colored ooze, covering everything in sight.

And all that ooze faded to white.

***

Spastic pulses jostled the man's body on the operating table. Legs and arms convulsed back and forth in violent thrusts. The doctor's held down his body, but it was too late, the leather straps around the man's head had loosened and his exposed brain collided along the sides of his broken skull, bashing back and forth among the surgical tools still submerged in gray matter.  The doctor stared on in horror, forced to wait and cringe at the sight of blood spattering out from the man's brain, pouring out onto his peeled back red-haired scalp.

Soon he stopped moving altogether, and the doctors knew he'd never move again. His heart had stopped, his blood was draining out on the floor, his brain had been damaged beyond repair. It didn't take long for the doctors to pronounce that Paul was dead.

It was such a shame. They removed most of the brain tumor, but later found that a small piece was left behind. On Paul's second trip to London he didn't make it to his neurosurgeon's hospital in time. They did however find Paul, convulsing on the train leading to the hospital. But Paul hadn't been himself for such a long time, poor man couldn't even remember what he looked like, when he saw his reflection in the subway window.