Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
- John Donne
Aya squealed as she felt a cold hand touch her shoulder. She turned and stared, scared.
"M-Mom?"
"What have you done Aya?"
Monica thrust a knife in her chest. Aya too astonished to react, stared at the knife, as blood slowly trickled down her dress.
"W-What.."
Aya thumped down on the floor, all energy sucked from her.
"Hush now, my dear. All is better now."
"But.. Mom.. It hurts.."
Monica turned her head and took a deep breath. Then she stared right into Aya's eyes and smiled.
"It'll soon be over, my dear."
Monica took the knife out of Aya's chest and threw it by her side.
"Mom.. I love.. Yo..u"
Aya stared sleepily as Monica disappeared into a blinding white light.
As Aya lay there, breathing her last moments, she heard a door open.
Door?
Aya unable to speak, lay there, staring at the intruder. One she recognized very well.
"Fa..th.."
"Shush now, my doll. I have come to take you. As I promised."
"W..he..r..e"
"Ah darling, did you forget? We're going Someplace Safe.."
And with that, Alfred picked up the knife and plunged it into her heart, one last time.
That was all she ever saw.