Putrid Pride

Her beautifully white coat was now splattered and smeared with her own blood. She fought to maintain her consciousness, but her eyes could simply not adjust. Her body felt cold, and so heavy. All she wanted to do was sleep. But for her two short years of life she knew that if she slept now… if she woke up again she would regret it. Absinth couldn’t even tell he had released his hold on her. No - she was floating somewhere in the middle of numbness and anguish, desperate for something, anything to pull her out of her forced dissociation.

And something did come to her aid. But it was hardly a good thing.

Burning! She was burning! At her hip, her ribs, something was ripping! - tearing! her apart! Absinth’s eyes came back into focus, her bloodied face contorting into a multitude of emotions. Pain, of course. Anger. Grit. She tried to move but her body would not cooperate, the only action she could muster up rose from her chest like bile. A scream, one that ripped through her maw like the serrated teeth of her attacker. It was a cry that faded out into a strangled wail as she ran out of air, and very much unlike any noise she had ever made since running away from her homeland. Her head dropped to the ground again, eyes open but not truly seeing anything as her breath devolved into shocked pants.


wormwood