- eremika oneshots.

hate. [em]

— years of love have that has
  been disregarded, astray in
   the hatred of a minute.

(( ✉️ ))

/ taken after chap 112. /

‼️

warning. this one-shot contains
manga spoilers. so please, skip if
you have not caught up w/the
manga, or do not want
any spoilers.

thank you.

‼️

I've always hated you.

Her mind lingers on the four letter word— hate. A strong aversion of intense disliking, implying an emotional abhorrence coupled with enmity or malice. Hate. He hates her, for what seems like with every fibre of his being.

Her body feels drained, and queasy— her mind refuses to shut down. He hates her, for what seems like with every fortitude he possesses. His wounding words pierced a hole directly through her heart. Her frail agonizing heart, emitting crushing sensations— depleting her like a strong migraine. He hates her.

Leisurely, she flutters her stout eyelids open— her fatigued orbs addressed with darkness. She recalls, being thrown in a cell by a 'Yeargerist' or two— though questionably separate from her comrades. None other than the darkness to accompany her— she vaguely shifts, her back purportedly situated against a dense wall. Her back curves, drawing her knees close to her chest— bowing her forehead on her kneecaps.

Alongside, her right hand brushes a cotton material— assumingely ragged on the bare concrete floor. A great tremor overtakes her, she can't handle this much longer. She was already falling apart, day by day. Her incentive that kept her motivated, was to see him again. To collapse in his arms, and heave tears of joy— to conceive that he was alive and healthy.

But, no. Instead, he hates her.

She starts to question her existence, doubting herself as a person— as a human being entirely. Squeezing her puffed eyes shut— her sockets that has yet to shed more tears, she gulps. She was convinced— that she was nothing but a mere material. Designed to protect, act of her instincts that reside in her blood— not heed out of her own free will. A slave to humanity, a vassal to her host. To him.

Her throat tightens, body wracking with an onslaught of misery and pain. Then— are the warm, tender feelings, and fondness she acquires the moment her eyes capture him not of her own will? The sense of when they speak, engage eyes— feeling as if time suspends, making the whole world seem still except for them. Were those times all just a vivid dream?

The feeling— of cascading in an endless tunnel, that sweeps her up in a whirlwind that she's never quite loose from and couldn't fully grasp. Only he could make her notions dishevelled, and make her feel so insecure. A tear escapes her left eye, heaps of grief pouring out in a flood. She clenches the graced, cotton material— a gut wrenching sob tearing through her chest.

Are her feelings an act of instinct too?

Solemn tears trickle down to her porcelain cheeks, her mind tangling. She doesn't know what to do anymore, not aware of what's right or wrong at this point. His bitter words had tore at her heart, shredded her soul. Hate. Her body converts to complete hopelessness, her bottom lip quivering— shoulders dropping in resignation.

Was this all her fault? The way that she feels? Or did he despise the blood that she's beholden to? Her breath hitches, swallowing the lump caught in her throat. Lifting her head, she brings her shivering hands to swab her damp cheeks. Consciously, she attempts to take in a deep breath— slowly exhaling, and calming herself.

Take a deep breath, this isn't the time to be emotional. Stand up.

As of now, she begs herself— to stop crying, to pick herself up, and stay strong until the end. To endure her pain, just as invariably from time to time. She has to fight. For herself, and for her comrades. Yes, she was enervated— enervated of this merciless world and their fate. This merciless world, where only victors are allowed to live.

After all, this world is nothing but cruel.

—