Despair, ashen, and endless hatred towards the world.
In the midst of burning ruins, a lifeless mother cradles a long-dead infant, the cold child's body stained with pitch-black blood. Her vacant pupils fail to focus for a long time, only marked by dried bloody tears at the corners of her eyes. Drop by drop, blood, and tears mixed together, streamed down her face, and seeped into her cracked and withered lips.
She had been kneeling here all night.
As if she had lost all vitality, this mother's life was like a lingering candle in the wind, on the verge of extinguishing. She didn't know why she was still alive, or how she survived that night of despair. She only knew she couldn't die yet.
A heavy footstep sounded.
Soon enough.
