Decay

Wither

I'm holding on as tight as I can, the monotony never seems to end.

Every day feels the same, every day I think about the place I'd rather be than here.

I've been here before.

August Burns Red- Spirit Breaker
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"If we had taken Eden, none of this would have happened. Yet you rode against us, slaughtered our flesh, then bound our souls in your amulet!"- Absalom
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I remember all too well how shaken I was, awash in pain and doubt as I cut them down like trees, like inanimate objects that had no purpose. It has never left my mind. My body bears the scars and was home to the pain and suffering of the Nephilim. Absalom and the rest of my kin, I didn't want to do it, but they brought it upon themselves, choosing to take Eden. That was one of the many forbidden things to us.

I am thrust back into reality, my heart is beating so fast, my head resting on my arm. I feel so much agony coming from the entirety of my body from the wound in my pectoral. Some of the blood had dried, yet when the air hits the exposed flesh I can feel the sting. My anger, it boiled inside of me to the point where I just had to exert it. I yelled out as I punched the wall as hard as I could, I felt my bones shake and the skin and muscle of my arm crawl from the vibration. My wrist was irritated and my fingers were throbbing, yet I felt immune to it, I felt the adrenaline rush through me like a drug, it was stimulating, I felt replenished. But that high was small lived and I could feel the pain full force, slamming into me. The headache was back, the stinging, everything, it all returned and hurt even more than before.

I turn around and see the corpse of the hellspawn, still lying there and beginning to smell. I continue to walk again, but this time a little slower than before, I am tired, already I feel weak, drained of my strength. I push forward anyway.

The grief I harbor is a knife, constantly thrust into my abdomen, leaving cuts and bruises all over me, stabbed into my back and twisted, and it is always with me. There is no greater pain than mental, because it may never leave you. The ruins unveil these events from inside the locked doors of my head and forcing them out, toying with them, gleefully attacking me with a personal hell that was intentionally left alone. And that's only the start of the effect it has, it brings it to life in vivid detail, eviscerating every last painful memory, cutting me open and splaying it out.

The dim halls and shattered windows pass me by, the old age of stained glass and gathering of dust and dirt stayed airborne as the meek sunlight glanced in from the outside. The eerie silence of these halls of grandeur had become nothing but white noise to me, there was nothingness to be heard in these halls.

Yet as I hear the nothingness of air, I do know that I am still not alone. Whether it be my thoughts, or more monstrous cadavers crafted from the hands of the worthless and undying, something is ever present.

I find another room, smaller in size yet dreary and uninviting. I stand in the doorway; half of the room is covered in darkness save for most of the right side, light breaks through and bleeds with shadows through broken walls. I can hear more denizens so I cautiously make my way into the room. There are harsh cackles behind walls of pitch black, taunting and cursing in hissed screams while other inhuman noises emitted from their mouths. I cringe behind my mask, my anger slowly boiling in my chest as they continue to babble on.

"Ahh yes! The Reaper! The Reaper is here!" it was said with glee. As that voice trailed off, another spoke. It was a creaky and damaged voice. "The Nephilim? Ohhh, the Kinslayer! It has been so long. Yes yes, one of the Council's pets," the disembodied voice stops to laugh, "Well, it looks like one got off its leash!"

"ENOUGH!" I bellowed out to the pitiful scum, hiding in the dark. My hands were tightly wrapped around both scythes as I scanned the room for movement, or for a way to draw them out. I know something is present, I can sense it, I'm not hallucinating again.