Categories > Games > Silent Hill > Story's End
Delicate Disembowlment
0 reviewsCompleate:: A final moment of storytime from one Patient of Brookhaven to another...Art of Moroi can be found at anarchicq.deviantart.com
0Unrated
DISCLAIMER: You know this story by now. I don't own Silent Hill, and it doesn't own me. I own Moroi and her buddies though.
Delicate Disembowelment
A SH fic by Q.
Moroi didn't bother to open her eyes for the longest time. Quite possibly, she fell asleep. The knowledge that she had to get up, and had to fight was forefront in her mind, but the want- the reason...there was none...
She just wanted to Be with him.
Moroi's eyes opened a touch, her vision blurry and disjointed. She was light headed, the vomit-drug cocktail swimming it's way through her small system. Muscles were like jelly, and moved sporadically and jarringly.
Yet, no matter how much she wanted to rest, the human body has a natural instinct to survive. That is why Moroi's numb fingers reached for the green blur in the distance.
Her fingers touched the cold metal of the ammo box, climbing up like a clunky spider, to hook onto the handle. She gave a weak pull, and the box tipped, falling onto its side with an earsplitting clatter. The lid slammed onto the grated floor and the contents spilled out, rolling onto the cover of the box like it were a tray.
Moroi's nails scratched against the plasticy surface of the small bottle which rested in the box. With the sound of a garbled, foamy exhale, Moroi struggled to grip the bottle, pulling it to herself. The exertion took much energy from the small girl, and she panted heavily, head swimming in near oblivion again, before she asserted herself once more. Capturing the neck of the bottle in her teeth, Moroi pulled the thing open, and let the bitter liquid stream into her mouth. Moroi shuttered as she forced herself to swallow it down, a weird tickle invading her chest and shoulders.
Slanted, amber coloured eyes blinked, focus returning to the girl as she was overcome with a rejuvenated sense. The young woman pushed from the corpse upon which she rested, making a point not to look down at it. She instead placed her fingertips to her lips, before placing the same fingertips to the cadaver's brow, followed by gently closing his dead eyes.
"Sleep well, Korosu." Moroi prayed numbly, before rising upon shaky legs.
Quickly, the Snailgirl grabbed up the revolver, reloading it with the remnants of the bullets. Her eyes returned to the box, now gutted of it's contents. With a shrug, Moroi snapped it closed and picked it up. It might come in handy.
She stuck the revolver back in her pantwaist, exhaling as she turned around to once again face her room. Moroi's brows furrowed and she blinked, a bit taken aback.
Her door was no longer blocked.
"...Oooookaaay..." The young patient tilted her head, eyes skeptical as her lithe fingers gripped the handle of her quarters.
With a pathetic, wounded groan, the door conceded, and opened, Moroi stepping into the room that had been her home for a number of years.
Slanted eyes immediately widened and teared in horror as Moroi realized her company.
Before her stood a young woman, of Moroi's own age. Her visage was bruised, emaciated, lids sliced off of her eye sockets, revealing the complete sphere of the golden eyes, nested in a void of black. Her smile was cruel and bloodthirsty, hair shaved, ripped out, scraggly. The creature sported a crown of insanity- a lobotomy crown device encircling her head, the screws drilled deep inside her skull to secure the torturous object.
Moroi let her eyes finally leave the hellish woman's, only to note her body. She was gutted, spine visible, her garb a sick skin of inverted human coverings, the knots of fat and veins still pulsating with life. The skin outfit was cut in the style of a traditional asian bridal dress. The spine of a huge book was soldered to her own spine, serving as bazaar wing like appendages. She smiled ever crueler, a hiss sibilating from between her fang like teeth.
"Moroi....." The creature's voice was airy, twisted...
Moroi whimpered, back hugging the door as her brows twisted in fear.
"I-..." She squeaked, voice weak. "I-I-..I just want to find Mr. Coleman's books, Harakiri..."
Harakiri. The Japanese art of disembowelment. Moroi's darkest designs, the villainous queen of Moroi's imaginary worlds. All the bad thoughts, designs, and sadistic tendencies that have every crept into the girl's mind were sent to feed Harakiri, in an effort to keep herself sane. But now Harakiri was off her leash.
Moroi trembled against the fleshy door like a little leaf as she tried to reason with the abomination before her. "I'm not going to chain you up back in my head. All I want are my friend's books. That's all."
A mechanical 'chunk' was heard, and Harakiri slowly began to rise up, her expansive skirts covering the floor and dragging delicately along the grating, revealing mechanic-like stilts made helter skelter from any materials available. Moroi's insanity queen began to laugh idly as she elongated herself, eyes always trained on the little speck tha was her captive.
"That's ALL!" Moroi desperately insisted, trying to ignore the fear-induced wetness seeping its way down her legs, onto the floor. But at the loss of that bodily function, Moroi's teeth chattered in shame.
"Tasty" Harakiri chuckled, watching the humiliation with glee. "I see I have quite the effect on you."
Moroi tried to set her jaw, eyes narrowing in a gesture of defiance. Still, she shook. "You can't control me. That wasn't because of you."
"No?" Her slender arms flexed, bony, spurred growths that were more reminiscent of an HR Giger creation then anything else. Her arm extended, slamming into the wall around Moroi, caging her against the door. Moroi screamed with the sudden gesture, flinching as the sound of breaking flesh and bone echoed all around her. Yet she willed her eyes open, looking at her nemesis once again.
"You can't kill me, Harakiri. If I stop being, so do you. You live in my head."
"Stupid girl." Hissed the disemboweled creation. "I don't need to kill you. Just keep you. Forever. Provoke you. Then I shall have free range."
Moroi gave the creature a flat look, arching a brow. "And do what?" Moroi inhaled raggedly, the next admission taking it's toll on her. "This isn't a story. This is reality. You don't exist!"
In a quick movement, Moroi grabbed the firearm at her hip and cocked it, firing two rounds at Harakiri's binding palm. The first shot cracked the hand, by the second, the appendage exploded into a flurry of bony shrapnel, the gun's kickback slamming Moroi against the door bruisingly.
Harakiri screamed in agony as her hand was blown away, Moroi taking this moment to duck out of reach of the flailing, enraged monster. The girl however, was not quick enough and received a crushing back fist to the spine, causing Moroi to crash against the ground, winded, firearm taking flight from her hand and discharging a round which ricocheted off of the window bars, and took up residence in Moroi's bed mattress.
The young asian forced herself to her feet, pain screaming from her back and chest. She pivoted, turning back to the hellish persona before her.
"Harakiri...I can make you. And so I can un-make you."
"Your voice is trembling, dear authoress." Cooed the beast smugly, the pain from a blasted away forearm seeming to elude her. With a spidery movement, Harakiri took an intimidating step towards Moroi, smirking all the while. "We both know you haven't thought of a way for your heroin to defeat me. Ergo, one truth remains..." The villain drew back, the brittle and dusting pages of the book-wings fanning open with a snap, causing a gust of stale wind to shoot at Moroi. "You're fucked!"
Moroi was lifted into the air by the violent gust, only to once again be backhanded by the chitinous hand of the monster. Her form flew limply through the negative space of the room, only to crash into the barred window, several things in her body letting out a unanimous 'snap!'.
Her little battered body slumped to the ground in a crumpled heap of defeat. She could then feel her sore body being lifted, the movement causing things within Moroi's frame to move, and she coughed up a nice helping of blood.
'You're fucked.'...The words echoed in the little woman's mind.
"Maybe I'll do as Chronos..." Harakiri mused darkly. "and swallow that which would un-make me..."
"M..." Moroi turned her weak eyes to the vial, dirty sockets of the alter-ego's, willing to stare down her captor."Th-...there's one..." Moroi heaved again, another fountain of bile and blood rushing down to the floor. "...One thing we have in common."
The creature let our a scoff, her lidless eyes dulling into an odd sort of 'flat' gaze, one much like Moroi's. "And what is that?"
"The ending." She answered simply. "The words.... 'And then-...she died...'"
A piercing agony caught Harakiri off guard as Moroi drove an object into her right eye. Moroi grimaced as she twisted the scalpel deep, before pulling it out of the eyeball with a 'squick' sound. Ocular fluid sprayed from the eye as the blade left it, only to have the other eye speared with the same weapon. Drilling deep inside the sphere, Moroi yanked it out again, slipping it past the shattered eye and into the socket, stabbing at the brain.
The two females toppled to the ground, Harakiri writhing below Moroi as she continued to stab and gut the innards of the creature's skull.
Self-disgust and an overwhelming sense of 'maturity' caused vomit to spill over Moroi's teeth as she continued to stab, over and over and over, knowing inside she was killing a very prominent part of herself.
Moroi then leapt off of the twitching monster, sliding over urine and viscera-slick floor to the gun, which she scooped up with hast. She jumped feet first onto the fallen fictional character, placing the barrel of the gun into an eye socket and pulling the trigger.
Everything that was Harakiri's mind exploded into a grotesque firework, Moroi letting her body fall back thanks to the cruel re-coil of a stoic firearm.
Delicate Disembowelment
A SH fic by Q.
Moroi didn't bother to open her eyes for the longest time. Quite possibly, she fell asleep. The knowledge that she had to get up, and had to fight was forefront in her mind, but the want- the reason...there was none...
She just wanted to Be with him.
Moroi's eyes opened a touch, her vision blurry and disjointed. She was light headed, the vomit-drug cocktail swimming it's way through her small system. Muscles were like jelly, and moved sporadically and jarringly.
Yet, no matter how much she wanted to rest, the human body has a natural instinct to survive. That is why Moroi's numb fingers reached for the green blur in the distance.
Her fingers touched the cold metal of the ammo box, climbing up like a clunky spider, to hook onto the handle. She gave a weak pull, and the box tipped, falling onto its side with an earsplitting clatter. The lid slammed onto the grated floor and the contents spilled out, rolling onto the cover of the box like it were a tray.
Moroi's nails scratched against the plasticy surface of the small bottle which rested in the box. With the sound of a garbled, foamy exhale, Moroi struggled to grip the bottle, pulling it to herself. The exertion took much energy from the small girl, and she panted heavily, head swimming in near oblivion again, before she asserted herself once more. Capturing the neck of the bottle in her teeth, Moroi pulled the thing open, and let the bitter liquid stream into her mouth. Moroi shuttered as she forced herself to swallow it down, a weird tickle invading her chest and shoulders.
Slanted, amber coloured eyes blinked, focus returning to the girl as she was overcome with a rejuvenated sense. The young woman pushed from the corpse upon which she rested, making a point not to look down at it. She instead placed her fingertips to her lips, before placing the same fingertips to the cadaver's brow, followed by gently closing his dead eyes.
"Sleep well, Korosu." Moroi prayed numbly, before rising upon shaky legs.
Quickly, the Snailgirl grabbed up the revolver, reloading it with the remnants of the bullets. Her eyes returned to the box, now gutted of it's contents. With a shrug, Moroi snapped it closed and picked it up. It might come in handy.
She stuck the revolver back in her pantwaist, exhaling as she turned around to once again face her room. Moroi's brows furrowed and she blinked, a bit taken aback.
Her door was no longer blocked.
"...Oooookaaay..." The young patient tilted her head, eyes skeptical as her lithe fingers gripped the handle of her quarters.
With a pathetic, wounded groan, the door conceded, and opened, Moroi stepping into the room that had been her home for a number of years.
Slanted eyes immediately widened and teared in horror as Moroi realized her company.
Before her stood a young woman, of Moroi's own age. Her visage was bruised, emaciated, lids sliced off of her eye sockets, revealing the complete sphere of the golden eyes, nested in a void of black. Her smile was cruel and bloodthirsty, hair shaved, ripped out, scraggly. The creature sported a crown of insanity- a lobotomy crown device encircling her head, the screws drilled deep inside her skull to secure the torturous object.
Moroi let her eyes finally leave the hellish woman's, only to note her body. She was gutted, spine visible, her garb a sick skin of inverted human coverings, the knots of fat and veins still pulsating with life. The skin outfit was cut in the style of a traditional asian bridal dress. The spine of a huge book was soldered to her own spine, serving as bazaar wing like appendages. She smiled ever crueler, a hiss sibilating from between her fang like teeth.
"Moroi....." The creature's voice was airy, twisted...
Moroi whimpered, back hugging the door as her brows twisted in fear.
"I-..." She squeaked, voice weak. "I-I-..I just want to find Mr. Coleman's books, Harakiri..."
Harakiri. The Japanese art of disembowelment. Moroi's darkest designs, the villainous queen of Moroi's imaginary worlds. All the bad thoughts, designs, and sadistic tendencies that have every crept into the girl's mind were sent to feed Harakiri, in an effort to keep herself sane. But now Harakiri was off her leash.
Moroi trembled against the fleshy door like a little leaf as she tried to reason with the abomination before her. "I'm not going to chain you up back in my head. All I want are my friend's books. That's all."
A mechanical 'chunk' was heard, and Harakiri slowly began to rise up, her expansive skirts covering the floor and dragging delicately along the grating, revealing mechanic-like stilts made helter skelter from any materials available. Moroi's insanity queen began to laugh idly as she elongated herself, eyes always trained on the little speck tha was her captive.
"That's ALL!" Moroi desperately insisted, trying to ignore the fear-induced wetness seeping its way down her legs, onto the floor. But at the loss of that bodily function, Moroi's teeth chattered in shame.
"Tasty" Harakiri chuckled, watching the humiliation with glee. "I see I have quite the effect on you."
Moroi tried to set her jaw, eyes narrowing in a gesture of defiance. Still, she shook. "You can't control me. That wasn't because of you."
"No?" Her slender arms flexed, bony, spurred growths that were more reminiscent of an HR Giger creation then anything else. Her arm extended, slamming into the wall around Moroi, caging her against the door. Moroi screamed with the sudden gesture, flinching as the sound of breaking flesh and bone echoed all around her. Yet she willed her eyes open, looking at her nemesis once again.
"You can't kill me, Harakiri. If I stop being, so do you. You live in my head."
"Stupid girl." Hissed the disemboweled creation. "I don't need to kill you. Just keep you. Forever. Provoke you. Then I shall have free range."
Moroi gave the creature a flat look, arching a brow. "And do what?" Moroi inhaled raggedly, the next admission taking it's toll on her. "This isn't a story. This is reality. You don't exist!"
In a quick movement, Moroi grabbed the firearm at her hip and cocked it, firing two rounds at Harakiri's binding palm. The first shot cracked the hand, by the second, the appendage exploded into a flurry of bony shrapnel, the gun's kickback slamming Moroi against the door bruisingly.
Harakiri screamed in agony as her hand was blown away, Moroi taking this moment to duck out of reach of the flailing, enraged monster. The girl however, was not quick enough and received a crushing back fist to the spine, causing Moroi to crash against the ground, winded, firearm taking flight from her hand and discharging a round which ricocheted off of the window bars, and took up residence in Moroi's bed mattress.
The young asian forced herself to her feet, pain screaming from her back and chest. She pivoted, turning back to the hellish persona before her.
"Harakiri...I can make you. And so I can un-make you."
"Your voice is trembling, dear authoress." Cooed the beast smugly, the pain from a blasted away forearm seeming to elude her. With a spidery movement, Harakiri took an intimidating step towards Moroi, smirking all the while. "We both know you haven't thought of a way for your heroin to defeat me. Ergo, one truth remains..." The villain drew back, the brittle and dusting pages of the book-wings fanning open with a snap, causing a gust of stale wind to shoot at Moroi. "You're fucked!"
Moroi was lifted into the air by the violent gust, only to once again be backhanded by the chitinous hand of the monster. Her form flew limply through the negative space of the room, only to crash into the barred window, several things in her body letting out a unanimous 'snap!'.
Her little battered body slumped to the ground in a crumpled heap of defeat. She could then feel her sore body being lifted, the movement causing things within Moroi's frame to move, and she coughed up a nice helping of blood.
'You're fucked.'...The words echoed in the little woman's mind.
"Maybe I'll do as Chronos..." Harakiri mused darkly. "and swallow that which would un-make me..."
"M..." Moroi turned her weak eyes to the vial, dirty sockets of the alter-ego's, willing to stare down her captor."Th-...there's one..." Moroi heaved again, another fountain of bile and blood rushing down to the floor. "...One thing we have in common."
The creature let our a scoff, her lidless eyes dulling into an odd sort of 'flat' gaze, one much like Moroi's. "And what is that?"
"The ending." She answered simply. "The words.... 'And then-...she died...'"
A piercing agony caught Harakiri off guard as Moroi drove an object into her right eye. Moroi grimaced as she twisted the scalpel deep, before pulling it out of the eyeball with a 'squick' sound. Ocular fluid sprayed from the eye as the blade left it, only to have the other eye speared with the same weapon. Drilling deep inside the sphere, Moroi yanked it out again, slipping it past the shattered eye and into the socket, stabbing at the brain.
The two females toppled to the ground, Harakiri writhing below Moroi as she continued to stab and gut the innards of the creature's skull.
Self-disgust and an overwhelming sense of 'maturity' caused vomit to spill over Moroi's teeth as she continued to stab, over and over and over, knowing inside she was killing a very prominent part of herself.
Moroi then leapt off of the twitching monster, sliding over urine and viscera-slick floor to the gun, which she scooped up with hast. She jumped feet first onto the fallen fictional character, placing the barrel of the gun into an eye socket and pulling the trigger.
Everything that was Harakiri's mind exploded into a grotesque firework, Moroi letting her body fall back thanks to the cruel re-coil of a stoic firearm.
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