Euphy, Shirley and Rolo, their blood is on my hands. My filthy vile hands; so long ago stained red. Layers and layers like an onion, coated in thick red blood.
I claw at one hand with the other, my blunt jaggered nails scrape across the flesh, repeatedly. Eventually a pink tinged rash sweeps across my palm. This is not enough.
I begin to drag both palms over the outside wall near me. The rough bricks threaten to forever embed my nails. Again. Again. And again I drag my hands downwards. The friction is breaking my skin, my nails are chipped and pain soothes my self-hatred. Blood oozes from the damaged flesh. It however does not satisfy me.
I clench my aching hands as the stars light my way. With anger , I punch the wall, again, and again until my knuckles throb, again, and again until my skin wears off , again as my blood comes out faster, again causing my knuckles to burst and again until my hands are coated red
I stare at my hands, hot salty tears fall into my palms. It is silent except for the heavy drops of my own blood.
I cannot wait for my heart to coat my body in blood with the Zero Requiem.
Just a drabble I thought of after rewatching Euphemia's death, I hope you enjoyed :)