Nana shivered. The cold artic air pressed down on her body cruelly, incapacitating her movement as she struggled to take shallow breaths of the air. Her fingers were stiff, nearly blue, as she held them out in front of her, reaching for an aid that would never come to her side.
"P-papa . . . " The word seemed to get stuck in her throat, cutting off her small supply of oxygen even quicker as she choked on her own hopelessness. Papa. Papa. Papa. Papa was gone. She cried out, the sound cutting through the dense air as she flinched from her own voice.
"Papa isn't gone," Every nerve on her body was stiff and blue with the harsh artic air, so much, she couldn't move from her spot on the cold metal floor. She could only wait until death was merciful enough to take her away from the cruelties of life, and death was not a merciful one. Not for the diclonius. It had never been. It had taunted the diclonius with the hope escaping from the only thing they had ever known, mendaciously allowing them to believe that someone such as themselves had the pardon of erternal contentment after a lifetime of cruelty. But it would never come.
"Papa . . . papa . . . papa," The words seemed to fall from her ice encrusted lips unconsciously as she felt herself being pulled farther away from reality. It was her last stand, her last attempt to call out for someone to end her miserery as she layed numb amoung the frozen corpses of her friends with their flesh blue and cracked, who death emersed itself in favortism.
"Pa . . . pa," That word . . . that one little word acted as her savior among the haze of monotonous barbarity of the human nature, the malignity that brought her down to the level of carrion which she would soon become part of, until her flesh putrefied into nothing at all, washing away the memory of her existence from the minds of humanity.
"Pa . . . " Papa. Papa. Papa. She could hardly speak her manumitter now, her voice lost to the frostbite eating away at the muscles inside her. Death was enjoying itself. It tugged at her, pulling her closer to the edge of her stupor, ready to push her off the edge into the abyss of nothingness. An abyss so dark, not even memories would be able to escape the maze of constricting brutality and savagery towards the ones living, trying to remember their loved ones that had been lost many years ago. But what can one say? It was the nature of death.
Nana.
Nana.
Nana.
Who is Nana?
A diclonius.
A daughter.
A living being.
Nana.
Nana.
Nana.
Who was Nana?