Empty: Book 1

18 : Asylum Patient

Illustrated: Eula

PANA

Maybe it's just my body, but the breeze smells the worst when gusting without his flavor seeping through my nose. It's hard to inhale, knowing he's inhaling a different scent without the combination of mine, and I without his. A view of nothingness, signage of warning; was the lone matter that my weary eyes laid on as I came back and they're gone. He's gone, all his entire absence in any room without anything to remain for a farewell, not even our friends.

The misfortune I have, all comes from the fruit of the shallowness of my brain like it's permanently devastated from being once dead. All these vengeful seeds are now rolling ahead my path one by one to keep me out of strength. The dripping blood, the dried blood, all in one area, the dripping one was mine. I stooped my head down on the ground so I could smell the stain. It's him, and it still smells good but means bad 'cause I already miss him.

Of all chances possible... why does it have to be the second I was fleetingly gone?

I closed my eyes as a means of suiting myself inside the mind of a human enemy so I could think of it as mine. As I'm saying in my head, whoever made a plan certainly knows who I am to considers me as the greatest path to evade. Someone who's afraid. Someone who had decided to crash down the underground to have their chance of getting him without my leash and without being afraid.

"I... I know where he is," and this distrustful character was the lead defendant in how this conflict began. I can give him what I need. All I wanted was faithfulness.

I didn't turn around to Mikol standing at my back, in the doorway, clear by his shadow across the ground where I was sitting. Rather, I let my hand act quietly creeping inside my cloak as my body spins around in the grip of a knife, rushing on his path in my heavy trail to terrorize his cores where finely and refined, the blade slashes greed thrashing him a joyful ripper dancing along with his speed slower than time.

He's lucky, his sickening body portion escaped, but the sharp point burrows a thin lethal space apart from his neck into the wall with his shame. Oh, that wasn't a good part. He's not being a good living body of a friend. His punishment is my beastly growl serenading his ear as I fix him up against the surface with a luminous madness shrouding my eyes, burning with the desire to split this creature's neck into three horizontal nuggets. In that way, he can make me feel alright.

"...kill me and you'll never gonna see your brother again!" he threatened under his threatened eyes scooping out but staring full of soul into my emotionless gazes. If I could tangle this human's intestine right now, I then presumed the sadness would be lessened somehow.

But I remembered Deline.

The blade of my loving knife separated out from the wall under this heartful pressure, before I rushed down out of the empty place as my uneasy pair of feet tracked raging upstairs. I directed to the rooftop where I found the child, on the floor, peacefully asleep in the warmth of daylight shining directly upon her skin, drying her merciful tears as she waited for me.

My knees bend to reach her tiny face, and my gentle hand wakes her up in caress. Slowly, her eyes were welcomed painfully as struck by the light while trying to recognize whom she was with, when she did, she asked, "Pana... are they saved?" her whisper was full of hope. The words in my mouth remained timid to compose on my tongue despite the drastic changes, and I didn't even know how to pronounce my own name.

As a substitution for a forbidden speech, I place her hand up to my face alternatively, lending her touch over the wounded bridge of my nose to let her crumple it, hard, intentionally harsh until my face recognizably scrunched up by the effect of her touch controlled by mine. Nevertheless, I'm hoping she'll get the message: They weren't saved. But I endured the pain, and so are you.