I walk alone down the corridors of this hell that once was my
home. I realize that I have only survived this long because of some sick twisted game that
God has decided to play with me. I hear them crawling in the walls, under the
floor, all around me. How long has it been? Days? Weeks? I am so hungry.
I can't bear to keep going. What is my will to survive? Why me? Why so strong?
I am tired. I want to just drop dead. But I can't. As I wander, I find a room open
to all who wish to invade. I walk in and curl up in a corner. Then I saw her.
Beatiful woman, no, little girl. Dressed in black and carrying a glave of some sort.
She held out her hand. I looked at the long delicate fingers. Am I dreaming?
No. It's real. I take the offered hand. So warm. The black cloak envlopes me.
Warm as a summers day. I wish to fall asleep here. I will end the story here.
I will end all pain and fear. Here in this warm place. In the black folds
of the child death's cloak. I rest.