I'm trying so hard. But he's still all alone. I reach and reach and reach and feel myself moving, and I feel something breaking, snapping, cracking but that's okay. Because its working. I'll reach ...
Fire was scorching my lungs and consuming my soul.
And worst of all, there he was.
I could hardly conceive anything around me. I was in a place filled with horrors and pain and blood. Someone should save me. Someone should kill me. End this. Stop this. Oh God, please do something.
He reached for me, his eyes filled with sorrow and hope and despair and hope. I tried to reach out, tell him I was here. He must see me. I can't speak. I can't move. I can't. I'm trying so hard but the hope is draining from his eyes, his beautiful, beautiful eyes that I love so much and I can't help him. I can only feel the pain that wracks my body and see him in front of me. Someone save me. Someone save him.
There's blood all around him and it won't stop. I would feel sick but already my insides feel as if they are in all the wrong places. I hear myself breathing now, and the sound hurts my ears. I sound like a monster, crouching in the dark, one deep rattle of a not-even-half-of-a-breath and I'm appalled. Kill me. Make it stop. My darling boy, my baby, he clenches his fists and his stomach pours out from his mouth and I want to hold him. To tell him that everything's going to be okay. But it's not. It would be. If this would just stop. If everything would just stop. If someone would get him, if someone would save him, if someone would kill me. But there he is. And I can't help him. I'm trying so hard, but I can't.
I'm watching everything leak out of his eyes before he shuts them tight. It's hard to concentrate when everything hurts so much but I manage. I see all the joy and hope and life empty out of him and I want to scream because I'm trying so hard. But he's still all alone. I reach and reach and reach and I feel myself moving, and I feel something breaking, snapping, cracking, but that's okay. Because it's working. I'll reach for him. I love him. So much. He'll see me. It'll be okay.
Whose fingers are those? Black and deformed and broken and rotten are are those my fingers? I reach out further and something pops and those twisted fingers jerk violently and fall onto the ground and I can't move anymore but who am I? He's reaching again and my poor baby boy looks so helpless and sad and my heart breaks again. I couldn't reach him. The pain intensifies and I try hard to scream but the only sound that comes is this strange groan that dances sickly in the air around me. A creature of gore and death but I still feel like me. Who am I? I don't bother trying to scream now because I can't hear anymore and it won't work anyway. The pain is too much. Someone should end this. Stop this. What is this?
My body feels like it's pulling apart. Two forces pulling me in opposite directions in a shower of tortuous sensation and deep scarlet blood. I'm ripping and tearing and splitting and I can't do anything. I'm deaf and mute and blind and soon I will be numb, numb, numb, numb to the world. I hope. Please. Take this away. Make it stop. I am engorged and mutated and who am I? My poor baby boy can see, and he is so scarred now, so sad and empty, my darling, he can see who I am. In depths of blood and pain it brings the life out of him and leaves it lying on the hard, hard floor in a pile of chyme and bile. I'm falling apart, rotting, dead already but not dead enough. Not dead soon enough. There's still pain and fear and blood and I'm so terrified. For him. For me. Kill me. I don't know what I am. Oh God, what am I? Destroy and create and please, please destroy. Destroy me. Will I be stuck here forever? In pain and blood and suffering?
And worst of all, there he was.
I saw him again. Saw the hope in his eyes as he reached for me. Is this now. Is this then? It doesn't matter because my baby boy is reaching for me but I can't see him. What am I? He had seen me, he had reached for me, he had whispered a silent plea into the air around him. Make this stop. I saw his face speckled with blood and his pale cheeks gaunt with fear and eyes wide with horror. There was so much pain and I was being torn apart, it was too much, broken down, left in pieces. No one, nothing, could take this. I was going to explode. Implode. He reached out a hand with outstretched fingers. My heart was frantic, there was no where to run though, it would have to realize this. His lips formed around one word that meant more to me than anything. Oh God, I loved him, do something, please. Kill me. This was death without dying, this was pain without release, merciless and unforgiving, this was god-awful, horrifying, make it stop, torture. I couldn't reach him. I was breaking. He needed me. I was gone. Gone to him. Oh God, save him please. I would implode. Explode. Oh no, kill me. He had said that one word and I was gone. Deaf. Mute. Blind. Numb. Save him. Please.
Yes. Oh, honey. Oh no. I can't. Oh God, please.
A/N: So, just an idea I had. A short peek into the mind of that thing they bring back with their mother's soul inside. Please tell me what you thought! I promise to love you if you do!
Oh, and "Son Âme" means "Her Soul" in french.