It's quiet

The cold stone welcomes my feet, welcomes me home. Back to where it all started. I cringe, the fleshy gloves upon my hands writhe in joy.

They enjoy my disgust

They pulse, slowly rippling over my hands, mocking me, but content with themselves. They are happy with each other, for they are at home with the one they love. My right one chirps pleasantly, the left replies, as if having an everyday conversation. For them, it is an everyday conversation.

It is quiet all around me when they finish, the stone temple humming low in the back of my mind. It's quiet for now. But I feel them coming.

They are coming to destroy this place, to take away mother. I won't let them. I can't let them. I must protect her.

A breeze sweeps through my dirty, pink hair, barely shifting it in its blood crusted state. The entire temple reeks of blood.

Plink plink plink

The echo goes far, it falls drip drip like a leaky pipe at the temple entrance. I can't go back. Its' too much.

I won't be alone for long.

I ball me hands, they flash a purple haze, humming to life, singing a hymn of death and destruction. I am slipping. My vision flashes, they are covered in blood. Their once yellow plates of bone donned with trophies that boasts carnage and pain. They whisper to me, praising me for defending home.

For defending mother

I scream. Silence reigns again. A single tear slides down my cheek and falls. It falls through the still air, through unspoken words of despair. It passes through my regrets, my pain, my suffering, my worry for her.

I pray that she's alive.

Please, if there is a god, let her be alive.

The tear falls, surrendering itself to the scrap of purple fabric torn upon my gloves.

It stains like blood.