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starxscream · 1 year

Text

Sweet

“ To be kind is the hardest choice of all. “

[CONTENT WARNING FOR EXPLICIT BLOOD/GORE/DEATH. Read with caution.]

I haven't written in a hot minute, but these two possessed me

Waking up felt cold, though you don't know what "cold" means. Your apparent body feels foreign to you, confusing. Nothing felt right, no noise, no warmth.

You aren't sure what was going on. So you open your eyes, awakening to a puddle of something red and sticky. It coated the body that was apparently yours.

A tilt of the head.

Lick of the finger.

Metallic, strange, not the worst thing.

At least you won't starve, you think. Are you even hungry? What is that supposed to even mean?

You're not sure what you're doing here. Or how you got here.

Is there even a you?

Who are you?

You sit up, realizing the body felt lighter on one side. Turning your head, you look around, you only see one limb attached to the body- isn't there supposed to be two?

You don't know how you know that.

You look again, you realize one of the limbs attached to the hip was weird and translucent. The bones floating around in it like it was jelly, you're not sure if you could put weight on it.

Seems this body is busted, sad! Maybe you can get a new one, you think that's how that works.

Well now what?

Looking up, all you see is a dark red tinted sky. The smell was disgustingly sweet, like rotten meat dressed in metallic candy. The nose crinkles, and you aren't sure if you like the smell or not.

You blink. Inspecting your only existing hand closer.

It was clawed, made out of the same gelatinous material as your leg. Weird.

Everything was so quiet.

You weren't sure what to do.

How to do it.

Who you were.

Why were you here.

A curious voice peeks out from around the corner, a white furred face looking nervously at you.

Your head tilts. Unsure what she said.

You raise your hand, jerkily waving it at the other creature. You're pretty sure that's how that goes. You think.

You're not sure how you know that either.

She cautiously approaches, can't say you blame her, and gingerly waves back.

You can see she's a pure white furred creature, soft and fluffy at that you'd bet.

You think she's pretty.

You feel hungry. Your stomach growls. You weren't sure it could do that.

She's concerned for you, asking questions, offering to get you something to eat. You catch her gaze looking to where your missing limb should be.

Truthfully it appears she seems to be trying to look anywhere but at the red sticky puddle you were sitting in. Was the red sticky stuff bad? You didn't think so. It didn't taste bad anyways.

You don't respond to her words. She sighs. Asking if you can even stand.

A shrug.

An offering of a hand up.

You look curiously. You accept.

Swiftly you're hoisted to the body's feet. You wobble on unsteady legs, the structure of the strange leg surprisingly sturdy. You wiggle your toes, giggling only slightly.

It's the most you've said since you woke up.

Do you even know how to speak?

You can understand words at least.

You're not sure.

A guttural grunt, trying to thank her.

You guess not.

She looks confused for a moment, before shrugging it off. Ushering you to follow her, to find something to eat. To get you cleaned up.

Were you dirty? Was the red substance dirty? That's all you were coated in. You look back down at yourself confused.

Well she seems to know more than you do.

You like her. She's kind.

You like it when people are kind to you, you think.

Slowly giving a nod, she takes your hand to slowly lead the way. You amble along, body and limbs seemingly not functioning correctly. They were jerky and erratic, not the smooth clean strides of her.

You didn't get it.

You wanted to be more like her.

She took her time with you, stumbling along, her patience a gift.

The world was a wondrous thing to you. As the two of you wandered along, you couldn't help but look around. Large structures with panes to peer inside, other creatures big and small- all looking so different. You tried to wave at them, but she stops you.

It's not safe, she says.

It's not? You feel safe. She makes you feel safe.

You don't understand, but listen to her anyway.

The deep maroon grass tickles your feet, growing from deep cracks in the hardened flat rock you walk on. Black clouds swirl around, looking like slash marks in the sky.

You see someone leaking the same red sticky liquid as you, stumbling along like you. Clutching at their gut where it poured out like a leaky faucet.

You smile, happy to see someone else like you.

They collapse and you wish them a nice nap like you did- at least in your head. It comes out of your throat as a growl.

She shushes you at that. Telling you not to draw attention to yourself. She tugs on your hand to move faster, you attempt to follow, trying not to trip over your own clunky movements.

Eventually you're tugged down a narrow corridor, led amongst the smell of something burning- it didn't smell good. Your nose crinkles. Ears folding against your head at the sounds of screeching and screaming. What was going on?

She moves faster.

Pushing open a doorway in an alley, near dragging you inside.

The door slams shut, she fiddles with various bits and bobs on the door before letting out a shaky sigh of relief.

She gives you a wary smile and apologizes, you're not sure what for.

She welcomes you to her home, offers it to you until you get back on your feet. Asks for your name. Where you're from. Question after question.

Your head tilts, eyebrows furrowing.

You don't know.

You don't…know.

You should feel frustrated, but you don't. Instead just feeling an empty well building up inside your soul, a piece of you missing- figuratively. You were already missing an arm.

She hums and haws for a minute. Confused as well. She says well you need to have a name!

She thinks for a minute longer.

How about Phi? She clapped her hands together. You thought it was cute. You nod, a smile forming on your face, giving a grunt of approval.

Your name is now Phi. And you wished your voice would work.

Time passes by, you're not sure how fast or how slow. The concept of time to you doesn't really make all that much sense really.

She makes a home for you in hers. You live there. You're thankful.

She treats you so kindly. You wish you could tell her how much you appreciate it.

Appreciate her.

She's so kind. So sweet. So pretty.

She tries to feed you. Many things. You choke them down. You hate how they taste. They don't fill you up.

Your stomach growls often.

She brings more food. You don't have the heart to tell her it's bad.

Do you even have a heart?

You've put a hand on your chest. You don't feel a beat. But you're alive. So you have to have a heart. You think.

That makes sense.

You can't be alive without a heart.

Right?

Time passes on.

And on.

She returns. You're always so happy when she gets home.

She's tired. So tired. It was bad out today she said. The executioners were hunting someone down she said.

Those words meant nothing to you. But you liked listening to her.

She collapses on the couch. Sleeping, wiped out from her apparent exhaustion.

You don't sleep much. You're not sure if you've slept at all since you woke up. You don't mind it. You like watching her sleep.

She's so pretty. You wish you could be more like her.

She's so kind to you. You still don't know why.

Your stomach growls.

She tries her best. You know that.

Your stomach growls.

She's so sweet. So nice.

You're so hungry.

You know she wouldn't mind you taking just a little more. You don't really ever ask for anything.

The red makes her look even more pretty. You're not sure why she started screaming. It was loud. You're startled, you grunt, trying to say it's ok you're just taking a few pieces.

Opened up from the chest outward, your claws sliding through her fur so easily. It was so soft, just like you thought. Peeling it back to drink the red juice that flowed delectably through her body.

You knew it tasted good. From the moment you woke up. Like wine that had been aged to perfection.

You wonder about the meat. The drink would not sustain you. You peel a sliver off. Then another. She wouldn't mind. She doesn't want you to go hungry. She's always so giving.

You eat.

She was so so sweet. You loved it even more now.

Sliding down your throat down to your belly, you felt so full. Tender. Sweet. Delicious. She finally was able to feed you, she must be so happy.

Bones exposed now, she looked so much like you. Still pretty, you thought.

You don't take her heart. As long as she has her heart she's alive. Like you. You have a heart. You're alive.

Your attention shifts. You look at your missing arm. You wonder.

You could be more like her. You know she wouldn't mind.

You ask her anyways, a low guttural sound, juice dripping and spitting from your lips.

She doesn't reply. You take that as a yes. Her eyes looked like glass. She's always so pretty.

Flesh rips like sinewy strings underneath your strength. Bones cracking and popping out of place. She looks like you. You look like her.

You replaced your body. You knew that's how it worked.

You'll have to find a replacement for her.

Such a waste of juice you think. Dripping and puddling all over the floor. You shrug. Throwing a blanket on her while she slept. Closing her eyes for her. It must be uncomfortable to sleep with eyes open. You guess, but you don't know for sure. You hope she rests well.

For now, however, you amble off. Only one goal in mind, to search. Replacement. Replacement.

You'll help her now just like she helped you.

You'll be so kind.

She'll be so thankful.

You'll be just like her.

So sweet. So pretty. So kind.

—

She's supposed to be dead.

Torn apart.

Treated like meat.

A voice cuts through the thoughts, she's confused.

Her eyes open. How are they opening? She has to squint, it's dark and blurry, and she can't make anything out.

She makes out a figure.

Unmistakable, yet they introduce themselves anyways. Mr. Dark, they run this part of town. Of course she knew that already.

She jerks trying to speak but air does not come out of her lungs. She tries to inhale, looking down at her body.

Maybe it was a bad dream.

She's greeted with a harsh reality.

Chest torn open, red glaring against the white fur. Pale bones peeking out from amidst the pulsing flesh as her insides were shown to the world. Blood stains the fur around the open wound, bubbling and dripping onto the floor at a slow rate.

Nauseating.

Horrifying.

A body once whole now seemingly ripped into two. A pristine white coat marred, half of her body now a leather shadowy skin.

Grotesque eyes sprout from the arm that was not hers.

She wanted to vomit.

She wanted to scream.

She could only hang her head. Staring.

And staring.

She's alive.

But she should be dead.

She wishes she was dead.

The voice cuts through the darkness creeping into her mind.

Mr. Dark they say, wondering why they have brought her here.

She stares blankly. Unsure if she wants the answer. Unsure if she wants to know.

They answer anyway. There's a clink like a cup being set on a platter. They do not mince words.

She did die. They brought her back. How? By putting a part of them in her.

As if knowingly, the eyes growing from her look towards Mr. Dark.

She feels disgusting.

Why?

They chuckle.

Why her?

What did she do?

She just wanted to live as peacefully as she could in this place. So much pain and suffering, maybe she could have spread a little kindness. Make it a little better.

Didn't she try that already?

Isn't that what got her-

They speak. She listens.

A deal is offered. She will be their eyes, in the literal sense. The light is too painful for them personally. They must live in the shadows. She does not have to.

She gets to exist. To live. She can hardly call this living.

She doesn't really have a choice in the matter. That much is evident to her.

Why?

Because she needs to find someone for them. She likely already knows who.

She finally looks up.

Phi.

The name is uttered, voice found. Distaste on her tongue.

She's not angry. She's betrayed.

Her kindness, abused.

Living peacefully. Having a friend. Love. Happiness. It was a nice life.

It was stolen from her.

Her body was stolen from her.

The empty chest sitting on her body was a testament to her suffering. To the betrayal. To the agony.

Consumed like livestock. After everything she did.

So?

She reaches a white hand towards her innards.

Her kindness was the cause for this. Always so stupid for wearing her heart on her sleeve. Kindness was a naivety that got her killed by the very one she promised to care for.

Does she accept?

She plunges her hand into her chest, fingers wrapping around her no longer beating heart. It squishes against her grip, threatening to be crushed by the weight.

She rips it out.

She supposes, if she wears her heart on her sleeve, it might as well be literal.

The void in her chest feels larger. But welcome. Like a piece of her was lost, but in a way that felt pleasant, opening a path to something supposedly better. Feeling a wretched bitterness creeping into the empty spaces.

She smiles.

They take it as a yes.

Pleasure to be working with you. Surely you have a name as well?

A name. She had a name. But she died. She died because she was too kind. Too sweet.

A soft giggle.

It hurt.

A snort.

It hurt.

A cacophony of laughter bursts from the throat. Echoing in the dark room.

It hurt.

She was too stupid. Too naive. Too willing to believe this fucked up world could be anything but death and danger.

It's so crazy. So funny. How easy it was for it to happen to her.