Drabbles

Darkheart, the regretful

That's some old ass art, made that back in 2014. Damn, well enjoy either way.

A slow, low thrumming became apparent to Darkheart as it started to drown out everything. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. A chorus not yet sung, a unfinished thought, was the closest Darkheart could compare the pounding beat in her ears to. The tempo increased, rattling and beating around in her head before she became aware that there was nothing. No sound to be heard in this god-forsaken place that she was starting to consider actual hell.

Colors shifted and swirled erratically in Dark's vision, stunning her with the pain and brightness all at once. However, pain was no stranger to her as she pushed through and shakily stared down at her hands that were coated in blood. Unfournately, pain was sometimes the better alternative Dark realized numbly as her hands started to shake, the only indicator of her inner turmoil. She didn't dare stare past the hands that were stained red, or else she would completely break, mentally and emotionally. The soft drip, drip of the bright red finally reached her mute ears and she flinched, afraid of the tempo coming back to drag her into the abyss.

Sometimes the silence and madness, were better than the alternative. 'Get up!' her consciousness screamed at her, startling her out of her stupor. Dark was wasting time, sitting here in this red-stained room with a dead man and regrets consuming her. Forcing her eyes away from the hands that had destroyed that life, she concentrated on getting herself up and off the ground. Dark's movements were mechanical, running on autopilot and not quite interpreting her surroundings or her senses. She wasn't in control in that moment, and she supposed after this she never would be with the sheer emptiness that consumed her, inside and out.

Finally standing on her own two feet, albeit unsteady and quivering at an unseen force, Dark's mind drew a blank. There was no fear in Dark's mind, only regret with a mix of fury and bone-deep agony of what she had done. This was not the first time she killed, nor would it be the last, unfortunately, however this was far more personal than anybody she had ended. In the end, that regret consumed her and she turned to stare one last time at the only man that had sacrificed everything for her, her brother, Thomas.

Darkheart felt nothing for the first few seconds as she gazed at the slaughter she created. Then, it hit her worse then a freight train, smashing her fragile mask in millions of pieces to never be recovered again, damaging her already cracked mind and heart. A single, heart wrenching sob worked it's way past the woman's lips as she roared out in anguish at the unfairness of it all. Thomas didn't deserve to die, Dark knew that much even with the bias view she held of her brother. Another cry escaped her lips as she bend over in emotionally agony of the loss she felt deep in her heart, tears dripping down her cheeks in waves. Falling back down to the ground on her knees, she weakly crawled over to the dead man to hold him one last time, even if it was a cold, dead corpse. Gathering her brother in her arms, Dark rocked back and forth to mimick the times when he did the same for her when she was young, a desperation in her movements even though she was aware of the undeniable truth.

Thomas was dead and he couldn't be brought back to life, no matter how much Dark wished it so. Shaking head to toe, Dark held the corpse close as her clothes were soaked even more with blood, refusing to let go until she let all of her emotions out. She would have no time to mourn later, no time to grieve for the family she lost, instead forced back to work for the Grimm Reaper with no break.