Ophelia
There was no warning. Karen was sitting, eating dinner and going over some papers from the office. And then her hands were covered in blood and holding a gun as it kicked in her hands like a live creature and suddenly she was standing, one of her flimsy wooden dining table chairs splintering against the wall and punching a hole in the drywall. She watched the fragmented wooden pieces, all ragged, sharp edges and contrast between the white of the newly exposed wood and dark stain. Slowly, she became aware of her erratic breathing and pain in her hands. She glanced down to see that she'd gotten splinters in her fingers and the flesh of her palms, dark shards under her skin, and suddenly she felt dizzy and sat down hard in her remaining chair.
Galtero was crouched on the table, tiny claws dug into the grain of the wood, watching her with wide dark eyes. After a moment, he slowly stepped forward and Karen reached a shaking hand out to him so he could crawl on. She let out a long, shuddering breath. He scurried up her arm and curled up in the hollow of her collarbone, grounding her.