Death is so ruthless
She couldn’t see anything.
The darkness drowned its senses, an immensity of emptiness, without light or colour, without nuances in the darkness. She forced on her sight, widened her eyelids, worked her cornea for more, more than this undefined nothingness. But nothing changed. Her weak body barely answered her.
Her weakness annoyed her, wounded her. It had been a long time since she had felt so powerless to control her body. Yet, at that moment, she could only rely on the creasing of her eyes to confirm that they were still there, in her orbits. She could no longer count on the light to ensure their well-being.
She firmly closed her eyelids, tempted to distract herself by focusing on her other senses. Her touch worked acceptably like always. She could feel her body and everything around her. She felt enveloped, as if she were in some sort of bag, as if her skin was touching a slightly moist softness.
Her sense of smell and taste were assailed by hints of carrots, somewhat irritating her perceptions. She did not appreciate the fact that the scent was not dependent on her breathing as when she inhaled more strongly to enjoy the smell of fresh bread, but rather constant, as if she had inhaled it so much that it had impregnated her lungs.
Yet, it was her hearing that affected her the most, a strong and calm heartbeat always taking her concentration (It differs from mine, mine is weaker, faster). She could not totally focus or soften this problem, her mind invariably drifting.
Finally, after an undefined period, something occurred in the depths of her mind, distracting her from this blur of strange sensation.
Voices began to resound in her head, as if they were around her, in the darkness enveloping her, a strong power accompanying them... It seemed to last for hours, even days. The shock of suffering never stops, always as lively, always as powerful.
This made her wonder. What had she done to deserve this ? Was she a bad person who deserved this torture ? Her questions pointed out their lack of answers. She did not know who she was. Hell, she didn’t know her own name, and yet she remembers the smell of carrots.
To whom did these voices belong, she was not sure. All she could feel, all she could remember, was the torture of her voices, endless and burning, with the image of blood on a sidewalk. Why were the voices so familiar ?
- It’s okay. It’s okay. (Don’t look down, just, don’t look down).
- Don’t look, Eliana! She’s wicked, she must die!
The sound of screaming echoed around her as the boy screamed in anger and the little girl cried with fear.
- Mom! I’m scared.
- I know, I know, but I’ll be fine. I’m still here.
They seemed angry and so scared, but the voice, my voice, persisted. Calm, persuasive, reassuring (So trembling).
- I promise you, you... you’ll be fine. You have to believe in me...
The girl was still crying as my voice weakened, revealing a moment of life and death, a final dialogue. A cry, a gasp, tears.
- I hate you! You will die!
- I don’t want you to leave, Mom! Stay with me!
She trembled again, her body tense under the mental tear she was undergoing, finally knowing why the voices made her feel not only suffering but also sadness and a sense of betrayal. Where before she was floating in the dark, seeking to feel, to concentrate, to think, now, she aspired to be able to turn off her brain now...
She had been killed, murdered, betrayed by her own student. She had allowed her death to be used against her daughter, her little angel, whom she had tried to keep away from all evil and to preserve her innocence as intact as possible, which now had to be traumatised for life to have seen the one she considered as a big brother kill his mother in front of his eyes.
Her sense of touch interrupted his line of thought, effectively distracting it, the pocket that hugged her beginning to contract madly, twisting her body as the voices did with her mind. Her logical reasoning disappeared completely, as instinct overwhelmed her. She was lost in sensations, emotions and pain.
But then a light appeared in her consciousness, soft and mysterious, and, always with closed eyes, she could still discern it through the darkness. An opalescent orb in front of her shone with this light, illuminated by a purplish glare that she could see through its diaphanous surface.
She felt her spirit moving towards her, towards the light, drawn inexorably forward by a sort of force she could not explain. The light surrounded her ! She was drawn into the cold air and gasped with surprise, and the force that had pulled her forward stopped. Giant hands seized her, kind of bruising her skin, and above her, a voice sounded.
- It’s a boy !
She knew from that moment that she was screwed.