Harrow, I heard it. It fractured your f**king skull. I was so terrified. I was undergoing the kind of s**t that I had only undergone once in the happy knowledge that it was all going to be over soon. Child, that bee smashed you. A skull should not have made those sounds. The sound of it un-smashing was even worse—like an egg blowing back out again—but as it was saving your only skull, it was music to my ears. I cleaved that bee open from the thorax down, and it disgorged huge amounts of reeking guts and bones and green blood all over me and the carpet.

 

Harrow the Ninth - Act Five, Chapter Forty-Six