Death the Kidd lay perfectly still in his gothic bed, his body laying under dark red covers, unable to sleep.
He had been deprived of sleep for many nights now, ever since he had started having nightmares about a time long ago,
When his Mother was alive.
He would envision her face, exactly as he remembered, her hair was snow white, always kept in tight, perfect curls, it reached to her waist, with evenly cut fringes, all kept back with a black ribbon.
Her appearence was very much like a, perfect porcelain doll.
And he also recalled that it was from her, he got his deep golden eyes from, as well as her stern expression.
In the dream, he would be in an all-white room, with two doors lined perfectly Symetrically in front of him, for some reason, he would always pick the one on the left, and slowly opened the door, it let out an eery creaking that pierced through the chilling silence,
And always, when it swung open, he would see her, just standing there, with a soft, warm smile, the smile that she always spared for him.
She at first looks perfectly normal, wearing a silk black dress, with matching heels, and her butterfly-patterned shawl, with the hood piece over her head,
With some of her white curls peeking through over her perfect shoulders.
She would gaze at her Son lovingly for a few short minutes, then her black-painted lips would curl into a twisted grin,
And she would say words that stuck in Kidd's mind long after he awoke each night..
" Its your fault I'm dead."
Then she would fall forward into me, I call out, trying to awaken her,
And then she starts to decay in my arms, her flawless perfection falls to a disgusting pile of gore and bones at my feet,
And all the while I find myself unable to say anything,
I just fall to my knees, stained in my Mother's blood, parts of her blood-drenched pale skin clinging to my black suit,
And I can't speak.
All I can do is feel the salty, warm tears run down my face.
And a sentence runs through my head, a sentence that shows glimmers and shadows of what I may already know,
But can't seem to remember.
" Mother, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry! "
Kidd felt tears run down in rememberence of the horrific dream.
The sentence of remembering someone you have loved and lost is pain, bitter, exscuciating pain,
A pain that Kidd felt he was all to familiar with.
But he wouls not let it cripple him, he has already resolved to ask his Father about it, tomorrow!
But untill then, he would just have to endure the bitter oblivion of the sleepless night.
There you go, tell me if I should continue, R&R, I don't own SE.