The sadness overcame my whole being as if I was turning into a sluggish monster whose body is made out of black tar. The body I temporarily possessed felt heavy and so was the emotion. I had no control over what I had done.
(You have no control at all.) —The familiar voices had spoken over and over as it all happened. Although my body looked still and unmoving, my mind was racing in all sorts of directions. And my heart kept sinking deeper and deeper into an abyss, encased and shunned inside a sediment.
I had no idea where I got the courage from, but i stood up and checked to see my reflection. I knew the monster hasn’t yet to conquer my physical appearance but once i held the hand mirror I discovered something did. My eyes met red, blood, viscous as it was fell from my cheeks as I uncontrollably sobbed. Seeing it the first I was disturbed enough that I had forgotten to what it was I was sobbing from. The eyes had appeared again,
(You have no control at all)
The ketsuryugan had conquered me. Tormenting me. I let my hand lazily drop the mirror, breaking, its little shards scattering in my chamber floor.
“I’m sorry.” I pleaded. I had no intact memory of what I had encountered, I remember very little of the encounter I followed. I swore to them. But the shouts and threats were all on the villagers’ side. The more I’d say it would turn into a wail. But I did so anyways. I growled grumbled words even I couldn’t make up from my wet face attempting to justify the bad thing I had done. The sin I had done.
(You have no control at all) — it echoed, louder each time deafining my ears. I wanted to scream, I made a fist and bit into it. Kept it in like a gag ball as a cruel punishment. I scrambled onto the floor, lamenting for forgiveness of something I wasn’t entirely sure of. As I fully lower my head down, there the broken hand mirror I saw again. The left over shards had given me a dozen reflection to look at but with the same nasty image.
(You have no control at all.)
Stop it!
Monstrous, like the sluggish black tar I had felt in my soul, the blood slowly and frugally trickled spontaneously from almost every pore. What would my grandmother say when she had me at this state; finally the outside has matched the inside...
(You have no control at all.) —The familiar voices had spoken over and over as it all happened. Although my body looked still and unmoving, my mind was racing in all sorts of directions. And my heart kept sinking deeper and deeper into an abyss, encased and shunned inside a sediment.
I had no idea where I got the courage from, but i stood up and checked to see my reflection. I knew the monster hasn’t yet to conquer my physical appearance but once i held the hand mirror I discovered something did. My eyes met red, blood, viscous as it was fell from my cheeks as I uncontrollably sobbed. Seeing it the first I was disturbed enough that I had forgotten to what it was I was sobbing from. The eyes had appeared again,
(You have no control at all)
The ketsuryugan had conquered me. Tormenting me. I let my hand lazily drop the mirror, breaking, its little shards scattering in my chamber floor.
“I’m sorry.” I pleaded. I had no intact memory of what I had encountered, I remember very little of the encounter I followed. I swore to them. But the shouts and threats were all on the villagers’ side. The more I’d say it would turn into a wail. But I did so anyways. I growled grumbled words even I couldn’t make up from my wet face attempting to justify the bad thing I had done. The sin I had done.
(You have no control at all) — it echoed, louder each time deafining my ears. I wanted to scream, I made a fist and bit into it. Kept it in like a gag ball as a cruel punishment. I scrambled onto the floor, lamenting for forgiveness of something I wasn’t entirely sure of. As I fully lower my head down, there the broken hand mirror I saw again. The left over shards had given me a dozen reflection to look at but with the same nasty image.
(You have no control at all.)
Stop it!
Monstrous, like the sluggish black tar I had felt in my soul, the blood slowly and frugally trickled spontaneously from almost every pore. What would my grandmother say when she had me at this state; finally the outside has matched the inside...
-Orihime
Exit.
Learned Technique: Bloodletting
