Mio
Skinny's palm found her mouth, raised her to eye level. Mio brought up Can but Skinny's other hand was already at her wrist.
"Look at me."
Mio turned. She couldn't not.
Then those burning white eyes locked onto hers.
And went inside.
She was drowning in her own head. Every memory she'd buried floating to the surface, bloated and rotting.
Cathedral walls. Stained glass. The Entity on her throne of roots.
Rin's boot on her wrist, grinding bone against stone.
We'll take care of Nana.
Aoi's hair clip in the dirt. Silver catching light through a skull split by white flowers.
She's F-grade.
Three days of fever. Nana's washcloth on her forehead. The hunger waking for the first time, whispering numbers about her sister's throat.
The thumb driving into her forehead. The crack. The burning shape carved into the meat of her brain.
Make it interesting for me, Tamei Mio.
Somewhere far away, she felt Can rattling against her bones. Screaming without a voice.
Then nothing.
