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As the leaves, grass, and blooms that litter the woodland, sway in the breeze, I clutch my knees to my chest and while the insects sweep the ground, I hold back tears. Ants transport food and leaves to their small hill, which is located close to a mossy rock near a giant and rough tree log as butterflies and bees gather pollen from the near blossoms, which come in a variety of colors and contrast with the bright green foliage on the trees. Woodlice scour the ground, creating small tip taps beneath their feet.
The sun's rays filtered through the gaps in the leaves, refusing to touch my crumpled figure, which sat in the shade of the dense thickets near my prison of a home.
I didn't feel safe anymore. My mother's death had no longer made me happy. I wished she was still alive to stop everything from arising in the first place. She could have destroyed the demon that had penetrated my home if she had been present. If she were here, I would be stronger, less susceptible to manipulation, and less vulnerable to a demon that could kill us all at any time he desires.
I felt ashamed.
Of myself.
Of my cowardice.
Of my weakness...
I was raised to kill such monsters as him, yet here I am, crumpled to the floor in the forest in which is the only place I see a glimpse of safety that would soon be demolished by his image.
The image I now fear above all, even my mothers remnants within my wits.
It had been roughly a month since Muzan had taken over my life and that of my siblings, who were still blissfully unaware of his cruel game. They had no idea he wasn't our father, and I couldn't tell them the truth. He would keep a close eye on me and, like my mother, limit the amount of time I socialized with anyone. I was starting to feel lonely, worried, afraid for the future, and, most importantly, desperate for some kind of rescue.
I wish I was as unaware as them.
I wish I was living a delusional life of comfort, rather than...this..
As I leaned against a giant tree, I sniffled and whimpered.
I covered my face, wanting to run, wanting to hide....I just wanted to go home...but with him, there was no home...
My sobs were filled with panic, worry, and, above all, fear. I sobbed into my arms, my shattered bow tightly in my fists. The bow's string was cut to pieces, as was the rest of the bow, which had slice marks all over it, as well as ash and charred engravings. it had clearly been thrown into a fire.
My mother gave me this bow as her final present before she died. The bow seemed to hold a promise, a vow that I would protect everyone at all costs, and that everything would be fine when she passed, which it isn't...
