AN: Hello, it's me, theultimatenerd43. This is my new account. I'm rewriting my old fanfic, "Mother". With that said, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.
Prologue:
Emerald eyes flew open, scanning the room. It was dark, yet she could still see well enough to notice that she was in her basement. Trisha sat up abruptly, grimacing in pain when her breasts gave a sudden jolt, informing her that she wasn't clothed. With a sigh, the woman immediately stood, ascending the staircase with hopes that she was alone.
Within about five minutes, she had located her room. However, it was…..Different.
For one thing, it was covered in dust, as if no one had entered the room for years. Trisha sneezed once she entered the room. Everything was covered in tarps, resembling the room of someone who had died. Trisha opened her closet and found her clothes, which were neatly folded and separately wrapped in plastic. She made a mental note to iron them after she found out what's going on. However, first, she was going to make some food- she was absolutely starving.
In no time, Trisha was sitting at the dining table alone, silently eating a ham sandwich as she thought about what was happening. Her memories were foggy- how did she end up here? Where are Ed and Al? Just as she began to think about this, she heard a bloodcurdling scream come from the basement. Without thinking, she bolted down to the basement and froze at the sight she saw.
Her own son, Edward, was lying on the ground in his own sweat and blood, struggling to stay conscious. Oh, how Trisha wished to help him, but it was as if her entire body was bound by invisible ropes, leaving her to simply stare at her son- her flesh and blood- dying. Tears streamed down her face as she watched Edward struggle his way to Van's old armor, dabbing his hand in a pool of his blood and drawing something inside of the metal. What was he doing? Before Trisha could see what Ed was drawing, he clapped his hands, filling the room with bright blue light, and he was gone.
Trisha let out a breath she'd been holding and ran to the scene immediately. Both the armor and the child were gone. She turned around and spotted a pile of papers on a coffee table in the corner of the room. Turning on the lights, the woman walked over to the table and read the nearest paper.
"Water: 35 liters, Carbon: 20 kilograms, Ammonia: 4 liters…." She blinked. Was this some sort of recipe? As she continued reading the ingredients, she suddenly let the paper fall out of her hands as memories flooded back to her.
She was dead.
Thanks for reading! Please review.