“You only truly know horror when all that is good has been lost.”
The beige leather shoes lie before my bare feet, their soles soaked in the mingling hues of green and red—my blood and that of the creature. I gaze down at the mutilated being, my shoulders slumping once more, my body following suit.
My knees collapse into the viscous pool, a grotesque mixture of its blood and remnants of my own. My mouth hangs open, my eyes shut tight. I lift my trembling hands into the pale blue light, forcing my eyelids apart. My breath comes heavy, and a shaky smile begins to form. First, the corners of my mouth twitch upward, then falter, only to rise again. My brows knit together, then relax. My forearms feel as though they’ve been submerged in rice for a week—heavy and numb.
A low, stuttering laugh escapes me, evolving into a hysterical cackle. My torso sways, the tension in my thighs grounding me. I stare vacantly at the green flesh, peeling away like curdled milk, revealing the creature’s shoulders. Maggots writhe within the beige suit, its chest rising and falling as if still breathing. For a moment, I recoil, my heart skipping a beat, but the laughter resumes.
The maggots consume the suit like termites devouring brittle wood. My gaze shifts from the ravaged chest, ribs protruding and infested, to the ceiling.
Green blood drips down, splattering onto my face.
My knees and feet have long been submerged in its blood, but now it drips onto my cheek, my forehead, and finally, my nose. I bare my teeth, looking down once more as a tear escapes. Then another, until my cheeks are flooded, as if a dam has burst within me. My dimples fade, and I wear the expression of one whose very existence has been stolen. And indeed, it has. My brother, my life—gone. Never again will I see his carefree smile, the one that shone like the sun. He was my sun; I, the moon. Without him, I can no longer shine, no longer be uplifted by his joy. Not by day, not even by night.
My hands tremble, fingertips submerged in the warm blood. Never again will I hear his complaints when something went wrong. Never again will I hear his breath. No more birthdays, no more dinners. I am broken. My world is shattered.
I stare at the maggots, my blue eyes reflecting the supernova that was my brother. My teeth chatter against my lower lip, and my breath comes in sharp, whistling gasps. I hold my bloody hands before my face, snot running from my nose, teeth clacking. My vision blurs through the tears.
"He’s dead. He’s really dead," I whisper.
I peer through the gaps between my fingers at the headless creature.
"And so is it," I whisper again, tears streaming.
The flood of my sorrow doesn’t cease. No matter how hard I fight it, it won’t stop. The dam can’t be rebuilt immediately; the flood must pass. My tears continue, as they should. For the rest of my life, I’ll bear this brand, this scar.
I push myself up on one knee, my trembling hand grasping the leather shoe of the creature. With a furious glare, I wind up. I wind up longer and further than a baseball pitcher, almost dislocating my shoulder, nearly twisting my arm entirely—but I halt midway and strike. First with my right, then my left, then my right again. I pummel its knees, then its abdomen, then its chest, my fists plunging into the broth of maggots. I tear them out. Without the soft maggots, my fingers would be severed by the sharp ribs; instead, they’re merely cut. But there’s no red on my fists, only the green of my brother’s murderer.
I clench my teeth so hard I almost hear them crack. I groan but don’t stop hitting. My hand aches, but I continue, fingers splayed, digging into the initially loose flesh that becomes firmer the deeper I go. I feel my fingernails threatening to break, but I keep clawing at the flesh.
"You goddamn bastard!" I scream, my voice so loud it feels foreign. I scream and strike—actions that once felt alien but now grant me a twisted sense of power. The air is thick. My breath is labored. Yet I keep hitting, scratching through the creature’s innards, using my elbows as hammers. Time passes, and I begin to stomp on it. Mostly with my heel, but occasionally with the ball of my foot, treating its limbs like a soccer ball. I keep striking, time becoming undefined in this moment of sweet revenge.
Eventually, I stand over the creature once more. My breath is so heavy I’ve given up trying to breathe. I collapse, my body sweatier than in a sauna. Both my feet are bruised, my once-healed knuckles reopened. Most of my body is sprained, perhaps worse. As I stand, looking down at the creature—its half-body scattered across the floor, bones stained green and spread over the green stone floor—I hold my arms bent behind my head. My head falls back onto my tense neck.
"Ren, I’m sorry," I say, my voice so muffled I barely understand it myself. But I’ve already turned around. My back is to the half-creature, my eyes facing the unknown, the light. I look into what Ren always gave me, even without him before me. My last tears drip down my jaw, and I ascend the creaking stairs. Blood drips from my fists—green, the monster’s—but the rest has long since dried. My toes press against the dry steps, producing a sound akin to breaking Styrofoam. My pupils narrow; the blue light, now whiter than blue, resembles the sun as I know it. But upon reaching the top, in a room that could belong to any ordinary house, I see them outside the closed window. Light green curtains shield the interior from the sun, but the scant light from the blue sun is enough to blind me. I grimace, raising my bloodied green hands like a vampire shielding himself from the sun.
I hear footsteps—footsteps through puddles. I turn around, squinting. They are people.
At first glance, they seem ordinary—dressed in simple, outdated clothes. But upon closer inspection, they are different. Blue lips and bluish skin. Not entirely blue, but in areas where blood flows more intensely, instead of a flushed complexion, there’s a bluish hue. My hair stands on end across my entire naked body. They are women, men. Children running alongside them, holding their blue hands. They smile, and in a brief breath I’ve long forgotten to take, I think they might actually be normal.
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