☾

❝ THOSE FILTHY CORPSES NEVER WERE QUITE IMPRESSIVE ENOUGH TO SCARE THE MOONLIGHT FROM HER EYES. SHE HAD ALWAYS REMAINED UNMOVING AMIDST DEATH, FOR HER FATE WAS A RUIN FAR BEYOND MERE BROKEN BONES.

SHE WOULD HAVE PICKED SOME FLOWERS FOR THE ROTTEN WARRIORS. SHE REALLY WOULD HAVE, HAD IT NOT BEEN FOR THE PETALS TO WITHER AT HER TOUCH; SCATTERING THE EARTHY GROUND, JUST AS SOULLESS AS THE REST.

RUMORS SAID SHE WAS DEATH ITSELF, THOUGH WHO DARED TO LOOK CLOSE ENOUGH COULD SEE THE SCARS WITHIN THE WINDOWS OF HER SICK SPIRIT; A GULLIBLE GIRL. ALL SHE WAS.

NO, SHE WAS INDEED NOT DEATH ITSELF, ONLY A SLAVE TO HIS CHARM.

DEATH HAD EYES AND A MOUTH AND A DELIRIOUS FROWN TOO. TO FACE HIS WRATH USUALLY MEANT IMMEDIATE DEMISE. UNFORTUNATE ENOUGH, DEATH DECIDED HE RATHER UNLEASHED HELL THEN ALLOW HER A GIFT LIKE THAT.

SHE ADMIRED HIM FOR THE DETERMINATION IN HIS CRUEL VEINS, HOW HE MANAGED TO KEEP HER FROM DIEING LIKE THEY ALL SEEMED TO DO. SHE MUST BE HIS FAVOURITE, SHE PONDERED ON TIMES SHE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ASLEEP.

   THE SILLY GIRL, HAD SHE NOT LISTENED TO HER MOTHER WARNING FOR HER HABIT OF MIXING IMAGINATION WITH REALITY?

THE GIRL WAS AWED BY HIS TANTALIZING WHISPERS AND SHE COULD NOT ESCAPE EVEN IF SHE WANTED TO. SHE KNEW HE WAS THE CAUSE OF ALL THE CORPSES BLURRING HER SURROUNDINGS BUT STILL OFFERED HIM A HELPING HAND.

NO ONE SMILED AT DEATH, BUT SHE CERTAINLY DID.

OH, A SLAVE SHE WAS.

SOME HAD TRIED TO FREE THE GIRL FROM THE IRON GRIP SHE HAD RELISHED HERSELF IN. IT DID NOT MATTER, FOR HER SENSES DWINDLED TO THE STARLESS SKY WITH EACH LOOK DEATH GAVE HER. IT DID NOT MATTER, FOR THOSE WHO TRIED ALWAYS ENDED UP HOLLOW INSIDE.

OH, HOW COULD ONE SPIN A LION'S DEN SO PRECISE?

A LONG TIME PASSED AND ONLY NOW DID SHE REALISE HER PHYSIQUE WAS THE LAST THING STANDING. A LONG TIME PASSED FOR HER LIMBS TO LEARN HOW TO MOVE AGAIN.

HER NAILS PIERCED HER PALMS IN AN ACT MORE HARSH SHE HAD ANTICIPATED BUT IT WAS TOO LATE.

SHE DID NOT FEEL A THING, NOT ANYMORE.

A BODY UTTERLY AND COMPLETELY DRAINED IN A WAY THE TOWERING PILE OF SKELETONS COULD ONLY BE DESCRIBED AS.

THE GIRL LOOKED DOWN AS IF SHE COULD FEEL THE BURNING STARE ALL THE WAY FROM HELL. IN RESPONSE, DEATH THREW HER ONE LAST COMPLIMENT. ACTUALLY, IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN AN INSULT— SHE DID NOT REALLY KNOW.

   SHE SCATTERED IN MILLIONS OF PIECES, COVERING ALL THE BONES AND DEATH AND AGONY WITH HER OWN SILK SKIN.

SHE WAS NOT LOST NOR DEAD LIKE SHE THOUGHT SHE WOULD END UP BEING. IT WAS A FATE MORE CRUEL. SHE HAD BEEN STRIPPED DOWN FROM SOLE TO CROWN, ROBBED OF THE PERSON SHE USED TO BE.

IT SEEMED DEATH HAD BEEN OUT FOR HER SENSES ALL ALONG. ❞

ii:
sooo, this was a one-shot about an emotionally abusive relationship. (either platonic or romantic)

death as the manipulative abuser,
         the girl as the naïve victim.

the corpses in the scene is actually the girl's perception, parts of her consciousness she leisurely lost in the progress. (meaning she cannot decipher the cruelty of the situation)

disclaimer: i've never done anything like this specific style before, so honestly, it may be whack. idk, lol.

I do hope you enjoyed!