The Cries of the Dead (A Moon Knight Inspired Fan-fiction)

Chapter Seven: Unknown

(Trigger warning: Mention of abuse, strong themes, violence, gore, sexual references.)

There had been the constant sound of customers talking and laughing, before the darkness claimed her.

She'd heard an ear-splitting thunderous sound, before something hard collided with her head. For a brief moment, the pain shot through her.

Now she was surrounded by burning heat and strange black flowers; shimmering with starlight. They'd cause her to pause, to look away from the dying light.

In the distance, she swore that she could hear pleading and crying; even faint screams. It echoed all around her. Whatever had happened in the cafe she worked at, had brought her here.

"What a pretty soul you are," a seductive voice filled her ears.

For a moment, she stepped towards the sound, being drawn to it. The tone like that of a lover.

"Who's there?" She asked. "Where am I?"

"Do not fear," the voice told her, "you are going where you deserve to be."

"What happened to me?" The question felt heavy.

Something glowed above her, in the shape of eyes. Crimson, though brighter than blood. "You died."

Despite the heat, she suddenly felt very cold. "No, I can't be dead."

Those cries she'd heard started to fade, along with the light.

"That is what they all say." The voice told her.

"No, please. Send me back. I am all she has."

Suddenly, she was standing in front of a house, staring through the large, unfamiliar window. She watched a couple sitting beside her two year old daughter. As much as she tried to move, her body wouldn't let her.

The sun came up and set so fast it made her dizzy; her eyes aching with the movement. The view before her changed, pausing every now and again to show a different stage in her daughter's life.

Her daughter - still so young - stood by a grave, she was with the same couple that must have adopted her. They tried to explain that her real mother was dead, but all the girl wanted to do was play with the petals on the roses they'd brought.

Then her daughter was older, possibly sixteen, coming out as bisexual to her adoptive parents. Her new father looked disappointed and stormed out the room, yelling that it was 'just a phase'. While her new mother just cried.

This brought tears to the woman's eyes. Knowing that she would have been supportive of her daughter at that moment.

She watched her daughter grow, and accomplish many things. Suffer through a lot more.

Even getting married and starting her own family. Without her real mother by her side.

It was a different kind of torture to view it and not be there. To realise that she could have been a better parent for her daughter.

The woman's grave remained in view. Slowly it became forgotten. Overgrown and faded. No one ever came to visit. Not even her daughter.

Suddenly, she was back in her home, talking to the babysitter. Her mouth moved on its own, like she was not in control.