Mother Murder

CW: Blood

The Land of the dead, where the woman who brought me into this world makes good on her promise to take me out of it.

It’s violent work. Knives extend to her forearms and dig deep into mine as I protect my face. Slashing, stabbing, ripping. Blood rushes in cartoon spurts but leaves no trace on the floor or the blades. Because even as a dream creature, this woman will kill me while I clean up her mess, and I will die after an apology squeezes between my teeth. Small gifts buy time. I escape her but can’t get away. Only jog clumsily backward, arms outstretched, waiting to catch her. Waiting to absorb her anger, her fear. I swallow it all until there is no room for anything else, until it is mine. And I am back, bleeding. Bleeding and running, bleeding and running. Familiar suffering of the Burden’s fight.

The Land decides it’s had enough and I wake as she catches me. A hot ball of air hits my face and I brace for blades to find blankets. Her face, a washy image, falls negative on white walls. Searching, following. Bleeding and running, breathing and running. Familiar suffering of the Fight’s burden.

Waking opens the wounds once more, so I clean them, coddle them in softness. Still, they keep their red. My body needs to finish the dream, and it grows itself. Back in the cycle, but ready. Breathing, breathing. I would rather vomit than swallow any more fear, So I kill her instead.