The Centipede's Hymn

Beata squeezed the centipede’s guts out like it was a toothpaste container, the slippery nervous system splattering onto the linoleum. About the size of her head, it was as long as she was tall. The first time she killed one had sent her vomiting in the courtyard. Now it gave her a buzz of satisfaction to ensure that it wouldn’t attack again. She preferred to empty their bodies, to prevent them from being brought back to life in this strange world.