The Story of The End [1]

•I float in an endless void. Small lights- far too far to reach, the lack of pressure makes my skin boil. Bubbles form on my hands and feet, moving inwards; the lack of air makes my throat and lungs feel like they are being stabbed by needles from the inside, the prickly sensation only getting more painful as time passes. As the bubbles move up my arms and legs I fight to stay conscious, as there is no telling what will happen if I black out here.•

•It is a losing battle.•

Pang!

•Pain erupts across my temples, the migraine making me curl in on myself. Static penetrates through the pain, though incomprehensible.•

•"Pssssshaaat..." The static only gets louder, adding to the pain. I curl in more as it increases in both volume and frequency.•

Pang!

•My temples hurt again- sharp pain spreads across it, as if to catch my attention.•

•"Yuki!" A voice calls.•

Pang!

My eyes snap open and I close them almost immediately after- the migraine, the only thing I can recall from my dream, and the pain persisting. I hold my hair on each side before closing my eyes even harder, in hopes of the migraine going away.

It is still there.

I continue laying in this position, now covered head to toe by my blanket, hoping that whatever light present will leave, sparing me from this torment. I am forced to lift the blanket when the air under it becomes too thin to breathe, I don't know how long it has been. Although the air does not seem to get any better, I choke on my breath as the taste of soot overtakes my taste buds, upon which my mouth closes immediately. With my squinted eyes I look around my room, only to find my vision obstructed by smoke, faint red hue penetrating it in a few areas.

Unable to see anything else, I move towards the light. As I move I see no commotion on my way. Typically, my parents would have already woken up and checked up on me, or taken me outside- where the air is bound to be thicker, however that does not seem to be the case this time. Being close enough to make out the source of the light, •fire•. Luckily, the source does not seem to be my parents' room, but rather the kitchen- maybe it was an accident?

As I walk into my parents' room, I squint my eyes again in hopes of seeing through the smoke, I see them lying on their bed, under the covers... unmoving. I walk closer to wake them up, but I stop in my tracks at the metallic scent emanating from their brown blanket. I gently grab its edge and lift it off the bed, the soft material unexpectedly heavy, the scent gets even heavier.

•Red•.

Laying on the bed, covered in red, are my parents. They do not stir, nor do I hear the sound of breathing. I reach over to shake them awake as a metallic scent permeates the air and when my hands touch my mother's body I feel the slimy liquid beneath them as the colour spreads, staining my hands as well.

I shake her body with both of my hands, now red with what I can only assume to be tomato sauce covering the two of them. As I shake her, her arms move like those of a cloth doll- completely unrestrained by any possible psychics. My fingers move to clutch my own arm as nausea rises to my throat. My eyes catch sight of cuts on their clothes, with the blanket at their hips I notice as many as ten. Darker sauce surrounds the cuts, seemingly flowing out of them. Did they have an accident in the kitchen? Is that why it's on fire?

I shake her again with more energy than before as my eyes zone in on the cuts. "Mom! Wake up! There's a fire!" As her body shakes, her limp limbs follow. I shake her again with no response, only now- the darker sauce is overtaken by the normal red kind as it flows at a faster rate out of the cuts in her clothes, my right hand feels sticky as the warm liquid, why does it feel like liquid? I frown looking at it flow between my fingers as they cover another cut on her side. Nausea stirs in my stomach again, threatening to come straight up to my mouth as I feel my own side respond in pain to the one before me. I clutch my side, mirroring where my right hand holds my mom, and my white shirt becomes stained with the sauce as well.

I look at her face, her expression looks so peaceful, yet it doesn't respond to me. I keep shaking her, vowing to make her respond by any means, so that she can help stop the fire, so that we can leave. As she refuses to respond, I look to my dad on the other side of the bed, the sauce dry enough for me to make out the cuts on his clothes in more detail. From the clearest one on his stomach, looking quite like a smiley face, to some still covered in tomato sauce closer to his collarbone. There are two on the inside of his elbows, where the arm bends- although his like my mom's now lay limp. I climb on the bed, being mindful of my sleeping mom, and move towards my dad hoping to shake him awake if mom is too deeply asleep. Now sitting in between them I can see the cuts by his collarbone more clearly, two cuts, which must actually be four- in somewhat of a "Г" (g) shape but transformed in some way?

The scene becomes painful as my lungs constrict, the smoke forgotten in the crisis. I look to the door and see the red tint more prominent in the air, •the fire is spreading•. I hurriedly look back at my dad, and frantically try to shake him awake, only for tomato sauce to come out of his cuts. Looking at it now, it more resembles the strawberry purée mom makes rather than tomato sauce. I wonder if she can make me some tomorrow?

Sitting by my dad I look at the final cut, bl- •strawberry purée• seeps out of his neck. My vision blurs as I look at it and I can't breathe, my hands move to my neck only to feel the familiar texture of a scar- it hurts. Curling in on myself next to them, the purée that covers the entire bed seeps into my clothes- covers me from head to toe, all so •red•.

•Get out of there!•

I jump as I hear someone shout at me. I look around trying to locate the origin of the voice, finding nothing but the fog of smoke thickening in the room, the fire almost at the door to my parent's room, we have to go… But they're not waking up… What should I do?!

I stand on the bed, looking once again at my parents, then choke again as the smoke enters my lungs. The minute amount of smoke in my lungs throws me into an uncontrollable fit of coughing- I swear mentally between coughs that my lungs are so weak, sometime later I feel my body stand, taking shaky steps in between lighter coughs I get off the bed and make my way outside. What am I doing? I have to go back there and wake them up. I stop at my front door, which stands open, and look back into the house, but before I get the chance to step back inside a shaky voice calls out to me.

"Yuki?" The voice trembles as it calls out my name and I recognise its owner- Akito. I look behind me to see his quivering body as he waits for something. My attention switches between him and the inside of my house, where my parents still lay asleep in their bed. "Y-Yuki… Are you alright?!" He asks with a fearful tone. Taking a couple of steps towards me, Akito cautiously surveys the area nearby, per usual. I breathe in the fresh air deeply. I spin fully towards him, taking a step to close the distance. I take his hands into my purée covered ones and watch as his breath hitches and his eyes encompass a new kind of fear, a kind I've only seen a couple of times we have known each other. •The fear of blood•.

Before I get the chance to unpack why he has that expression words are already spilling out of my mouth. "A-Akito, I need your help! Please! My parents! They're inside and I can't wake them up!" I shout as tears build up in my eyes, on the verge of falling. I tug his arms, hoping to get him to come inside with me only to see him frozen in place with a pensive look on his face. He frowns as his gaze switches between me and the house, then his expression floods with relief, as if he saw into Epsydil.

I tug him again and the look of fear returns as he looks back at me. "Y-Yuki- I-" He stutters, trembling. I turn slowly towards the door to my house, moving to go back inside, a cry escapes Akito's lips and he pulls my arms towards himself and away from my house. Doesn't he know my parents are still in there!?

"Don't go! Please, please Yuki, don't go back there. •Please•." Tears stream down Akito's cheeks as he begs, holding my arm tightly he falls to his knees- crying as he clings onto me. "Please, I'll do anything, just don't go!" I look at him sadly, I have to go get my parents. I won't lose them.

"Akito, my parents are still inside. I have to go." I say with a shaky voice, hoping for him to just let me go. He looks between me and the house with terrified eyes, holding onto my arms even tighter than before. "Akito, I need to go wake them up! I can't let them stay there." Akito stares at my flaming house with a determined look in his eyes, his grip not loosening in any degree.

"I'll go. I'll get them. You wait here, please." He holds both of my hands in his, as he gently pulls me away. Moving into the house- he staggers at the front before pushing himself off the door frame, he runs in, covering his face with his arm.

Several minutes pass as the fire spreads further and further and there is no sign of Akito coming out. I move my feet to ready myself in case I need to go in, before a loud bang resounds from inside the house. Seconds later Akito is running out through the door, my parents nowhere in sight.

"Where are they?!" I shout, at which Akito startles, cowering. Stopping in front of me, he seems too anxious to speak- I put my hand on his arm gently, wincing, he looks up at me. With his arm shielded from my view he speaks lies.

"Yuki… They're dead…" Akito looks away, down at his arm before turning away slightly. Fear reeks from his person as his purple aura dimms. I stare a bit longer, memories resurfacing in my mind.

•Laying on the bed, covered in red, are two strangers. They do not stir, nor are they breathing. I reach over to shake them awake as a metallic scent permeates the air and when my hands touch the woman's body I feel the slimy liquid beneath them as the colour spreads, staining my hands as well.•

•I shake her body with both of my hands, now red with blood covering the two of them. As I shake her, her arms move like those of a cloth doll- completely unrestrained by any possible psychics. My fingers move to clutch my own arm as nausea rises to my throat. My eyes catch sight of stab wounds, with the blanket at their hips I notice as many as ten. Blood surrounds the wounds, continuously flowing out of them.•

•I shake her again with more energy than before as my eyes zone in on the wounds. There is no hope. As her body shakes, her limp limbs follow. Dark blood is overtaken by the normal red kind as it flows at a faster rate out of the wounds, my right hand feels sticky as the warm liquid covers my hands. I frown looking at it flow between my fingers as they cover another wound on her side. Nausea stirs in my stomach again, threatening to come straight up to my mouth as I feel my own side respond in pain to the one before me. I clutch my side, mirroring where my right hand holds the woman, and my white shirt becomes stained with blood as well.•

•I look at her face, her expression looks so peaceful. Accepting her dead state, I look at the man on the other side of the bed, the blood dry enough for me to make out the wounds in more detail. From the clearest one on his stomach, looking quite like a smiley face, to some still covered in blood closer to his collarbone. There are two on the inside of his elbows, where the arm bends- although now lays limp, not unlike the stranger beside him. I climb on the bed, being mindful of the body, and move towards the man hoping to examine the wounds on his body. Now sitting in between them I can see the cuts by his collarbone more clearly, two cuts, which must actually be four- in somewhat of a "Г" (g) shape but transformed in some way?•

•The scene becomes painful as my lungs constrict, the smoke forgotten in the crisis. I look to the door and see the red tint more prominent in the air, the fire is spreading. I hurriedly look back at the man, only for fresh blood to start flowing from his wounds.•

•Sitting by the man I look at the final cut, blood seeps out of his neck. My vision blurs as I look at it and I can't breathe, my hands move to my neck only to feel the familiar texture of a scar- it hurts. Curling in on myself next to them, the blood that covers the entire bed seeps into my clothes- covers me from head to toe, all so red.•

Get out of there!

•I jump as I hear someone shout at me. I look around trying to locate the origin of the voice, finding nothing but the fog of smoke thickening in the room, the fire almost at the door to my parent's room, I have to go…•

•I stand on the bed, looking once again at the strangers, then choke again as the smoke enters my lungs. The minute amount of smoke in my lungs throws me into an uncontrollable fit of coughing- I swear mentally between coughs that my lungs are so weak, sometime later I feel my body stand, taking shaky steps in between lighter coughs I get off the bed and make my way outside. What's happening? I stop at my front door, which stands open, and look back into the house, wondering who these people were before a shaky voice calls out to me.•

"Ah... I remember now." I gently bow to see his face as it turns to look away from me. I move to hug him reassuringly, before whispering in his ear. "It's okay Akito. Those people aren't my parents." His body goes rigid as I hold him. "My parents aren't dead."