Bloody__Potato

I was a fool to believe that I, a mere red, could play God.
A fool to think I could change the world, to balance evil with good.
A fool to trust that those dearest to me would always remain by my side.

In this world, where blood reigns supreme, a single misstep is all it takes to lose oneself.

Ren, my dear little brother,
I hope you still watch over me, even though I am unworthy.
I’ll be with you soon—just wait a little longer.
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Origins of Blood (RE)

Cham’s still running, revolver tight in his hands. Gene grips his too. But Cham can’t fight. He’s too weak. Gene’s stronger—he can harden the blood in his body, shield his vitals—but he’s no match for this thing. 


The green could rip us apart with one swing. 


And still, they run beside me. For me. 


The green took them. A monster like the ones that took Ren. My boots are soaked through. My toes curl, wet and cold, pressing against the walls of the leather. I glance back. 


The crackling sound of its limbs echoes against the sewer walls, sharp and rhythmic—like bones clicking together. Faster. Closer. 


It overpowers me. I fall. My legs give out, and I crash into the sludge. 


Its jaw clamps onto my arm—not with teeth, but something worse. Gums. Suction. A mouth that drinks, that pulls, that feeds. My skin tears. 


I scream louder as warmth splashes across my cheek. My own blood. 


I try to vomit, while screams escape my mouth filled with agony, but nothing comes. My legs twitch. I kick. I twist. I aim for its limbs, for its core. 


It’s stronger than blue. Stronger than anything I’ve fought. And I’m a red. I’m nothing to it. 


I scream again. My throat tears with it. 


I hear the crack of bone before I feel it. My shoulder splinters. Flesh peels back. More blood flows. 


Explode. Just explode. Let me die with dignity. 


It sucks harder. Like an infant at its mother’s breast. 


I curse under my breath. Not enough strength to shout it. My eyes shift. My vision distorts. The voice returns. 


I look to my right, my eyes flicker from pain. 


But all I can do is scream—silent now, raw and dry. 


A phantom pain tingles through where my arm used to be. Warm. Cold. Both. 


Explode. Please. I don’t want to die. 


I should’ve let them go ahead. Let them make the noble sacrifice. Why did I do it instead? I’m their god! I was supposed to live. For Ren. 


“Golden Reaper,” I whisper as I hear this crooked voice, a distant memory inside my head from all angles. It whispers. 


Another scream—again crooked and twisted this time. Not mine. Familiar, and yet… not. A voice I almost know, stuck on my tongue, and it continues to scream from within. No whispers anymore. 


A tear forms. The only one. It slips down my cheek as the scream dies. 


My mouth is open. My limbs go slack. My fingers stop fighting. My legs stop twitching. 


I can hear it now. Its voice, thick and wet. 


My eyes find Cham and Gene one last time. Their faces are frozen in horror. 


“You should have left,” I whisper; however, they can’t hear me. 


Its mouth still pressed into the ruined stump of my shoulder, feeding greedily from my blood. 


‘Golden Reaper?’ I hear it again, but this time, slow and distant. 


My eyes start to close. Just barely. The edges rise, softening. 


My final tear mixes with the sewage on the ground. 


And all I hear is the silence of death.


Seeing the Light (6)