Disclaimer: I don't own this! Also, a picture of the kid is on my deviant art account. The link will be on my profile. Also, kind of depressing chapter...
With Every Death There is Another Birth
"Push dear! You can do it!" he whispered into her ear, his eye twitching as his hand was held onto tightly- too tightly.
"Why did I ever want this?!" she cried, gasping and trying not to writhe under the pain.
If I touch, a burning candle, I can feel no pain…
"Mother?" a voice, quiet, unsure, questioned as eyes, large, confused, stared down the barrel of a gun, a body shivering slightly.
"Don't call me that!" harsh and high, a shriek that could make someone's ears bleed.
"Mother? What's wrong?"
"It's crowning, Mrs. Vandort!"
"O-ow… Who knew this would hurt the man as well…" he muttered, wincing, before his tie was pulled harshly, burning chocolate eyes boring into his.
"Don't talk to me about pain."
In the ice or in the sun it's all the same…
"I told you NOT to call me that!" a finger shakily raised to the trigger, eyes wild and demented. Garnet eyes stared up into red, innocent, confused.
"But… you're my Mother."
"I am NOT the mother of a… a…YOKAI like you!"
"Almost there Mrs. Vandort…"
"Nnn! Victor! After this is over, I will bloody KILL you!" she screamed, panting and breathing in and out in quick intervals.
"…Well at least I know it's interesting down below, then." He joked lightly, only earning a glare. "Sorry. Sorry…"
Yet I feel my heart is aching
"You heard me! You're the devil! It's time I righted the wrong that was made when you were born!"
Eyes widened as, suddenly, a shot was fired at a slender neck. A gasp, coughing, choking, the tear filled eyes, a heart pounding, thumbing against a chest as red liquid flew free...
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!!!" three more shots.
"OH BLOODY HELL!!!"
Though it doesn't beat, it's breaking
Garnet eyes wide, almost unseeing, blood pooling, a heart straining, trying to keep on going. Leaves crunch and crinkle as the body descends, gasps, crimson pooling from cherry blossom pink lips.
"Don't say it!" sobs wracking from the woman's chest. "Please! Don't say it again!"
And the pain here that I feel
Breaths quick and desperate, the world blackening, pain rushing through him, his throat tightening, trying to repair the damage.
"M-mommy… Mom-my!" desperate, searching, sounds distant in little ears.
Try and tell me, it's not real…
Another shot to the chest, a sharp intake of breath, a seizing of muscles, before everything goes lax, a last breath being drawn in, then realeased. Purple eyes, sightless, staring up into the sky, leaves surrounding the small body.
"U…uu… UWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!" a sigh of relief from the man, staring at the child, crying a storm in the doctor's arms for being slapped. Alive. He was alive…
When he was given to his mother, the man knelt down to see the calmed baby's face, eyes as gray as his own.
"What shall we call him?" he whispers, awed at the sight of their child.
I know that I am dead…
A wind blew by, cold, angry, as the woman began to dig a grave under the tree for the boy, the demon, his body still, eyes unseeing, lips open, blood dribbling slowly out.
"Dear?" she looked up to see the widow slowly descending, before stopping just in front of her vision. "Father Guternick wishes to see you… He says its good news."
The female, Emily, smiled slightly, standing from the bench and brushing down her wedding dress.
"He rarely calls anyone up. It must be good news!" Emily chuckled slightly at the voice, her maggot, in her head.
"…Me?" she questioned, her eyes intent on the small lump curled in Father Guternick's lap. "Take care of… the Maple? The Maple? F-father, I couldn't-"
"Emily." He cut off. "The child belongs with you, my dear. You need someone, as does it." She lowered her gaze to the floor, before she nodded.
"Of course." She then looked up and smiled, tears in her eyes. "I will the child as my own." The skeleton nodded, before gently nudging the young one. A yawn left the lump, small, sweet, delicate.
"Up now." A small whisper, before skeletal hands lifted the lump and unrolled the blanket. Slowly, a small figure, a fist rubbing blearily at the eye, stood in front of Emily. A patch of skin was missing from his neck, three bullet shots were on his forehead, and one in his chest. Or at least, she thought it was a boy.
Kneeling, Emily came almost face to face with the child, just in time to see, big, garnet eyes, glazed with sleep and something else.
"Hello, sweet." She whispered, lifting a skeletal hand to cup the boy's cheek. "Welcome." He stared blankly at her, eyes still glazed, till they widened in innocence.
"…M… mommy?" he croaked, his voice box slowly adjusting from being shut off so brutally. Emily's eyes widened at the name. "M-mommy? …" he asked again, voice high, filled with tears, desperate, needy suddenly, eyes still glazed. After a moment, Emily nodded, smiling slightly.
"Yes, sweety." Suddenly, she had a face buried into her neck, arms wrapped around her neck. She could feel his nose in between her rib as he sank to his knees, but he did not cower as he sobbed, only held her tighter, tighter, needingly tighter, tears flowing, relieved, not afraid.
Blinking, Emily let some tears fall, bringing her blue skinned hand to cart through silky purple strands.
"Shhh… It's alright… I'm here…"
"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" he cried and sobbed and shivered and shook, his heart, though dead, unmoving, shuddering with him as he spilled the water from his eyes.
A gentle smile curved lips, a hand clutching the man's.
Yet it seems that I still have some tears to shed…