Story Mode 130: It's My Fault

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"Move... and I kill Saeran." MC's lip swells to the size of a thumb, it's skin busted and growing a dark green. Her dark gaze flickers to the man at the end of her barrel. "And don't get self-sacrificial. You know what I'll do to her once you're gone."

"I swear if you lay a singl— AHHH!"

"S- Saeran?!"

Y/n collapses onto her knees. The soil of the soft yellowing grass soaks up the warm viscous liquid that seeps out from the hole in Saeran'a shoe. "Saeran?!" His hands wrap tightly around the appendage, agony etching itself into his features. He bites back on a second scream, his shrunken mint eyes meeting hers. A forced smile struggles beneath his damp gaze.

"Y/n..." his heavy breathing strains his sweet voice, sweat beading on his skin. "Don't worry... I'm fine." One of his pale fingers slip from around his foot, choosing instead to squeeze Y/n's limp hand. Bright red paints her skin. "I'm okay... it's just a little blood, but I'll be okay." His blood is on her.

"Saeran." Her gaze drops to the gouging hole in his foot. "What do I do? Saeran..." Suddenly she's cast in the darkness again and Saeran is bleeding out beneath the moon. She can't call for help. She can't give him her blood. She can't save him. "You— you're," her voice hicks in her throat. It's my fault. "If only you never met me... then you wouldn't be in pain right now. Then—"

"No, Y/n—"

"You're exactly right." MC's voice booms loud and clear over the couple. Y/n's fingers freeze as they move to dry her lover's tears. "If you never met Saeran, I wouldn't have had to compete against him like this." Her bloodshot eyes are wide and glossy as she watches over the scene. "I was wrong to get you into the RFA. I should've made you my own long ago." MC sniffs and her dirtied sleeve crosses her eyes as if wiping something away. A dry laugh escapes her throat, just a step back from a snort. "But you've chosen that psychotic bitch over me."

"Y/n—"

Her hands shake.

They are out of his and she's gone from his side in seconds, something cold and heavy in her grasp instead. She doesn't feel the knock back. The gun in her hands fires until there isn't anything left. Her throat burns as if someone ripped a piece of  sandpaper across her dehydrated throat. The pain is welcomed.

By the time Y/n comes to her senses, it's too late.

"My, my." A sweet voice the color of rotten fruits wafts around Y/n's rugged form. A chill crawls up her spine like needles. The empty gun is suddenly gone from her hands, instead lying abandoned on the ground. Y/n's white gaze falls to her twitching hands. Her palms are painted red. "I was right about you after all, Y/n." Soft fingers find their way above the tops of her ears and curl into the round shape of her eyes. "Darkness wins." She can't see. "You've proven the true power of my love."

Trees bend and swing around her, the wind hollering in her ears. She quivers. A whisper escapes. "...no."

"No?" The woman smiles, her shady emerald green eyes falling on her beloved son's form. Despite being tagged and tied to the base of a tree, he so desperately struggles against his restraints in attempt to comfort the cult's precious heir. "Did you forget what you just did?"

Y/n's lips quiver. It's dark. Her legs shake. Her hands. They're wet. They're wet. Needles poke at her sightless eyes. Her hands are wet with blood.

"Allow me to remind you," a small giggle slips from Rika's lips as they brush against Y/n's ear. The woman's voice drops to a breath whisper. "You abandoned Saeran leaving him wounded and alone. Then you attacked poor little MC who you had coaxed into her crazed state." Rika can't help but drink up the delicious sight of MC as she moans on the ground. Her brows are furrowed and she's in and out of consciousness, but the dog is still undoubtedly alive. "After you shot her in the arm with all of Saeran's remaining bullets, you broke her nose and dug your fingers into her bullet wound as you choked her. Watching you step on her throat was the highlight of my day. Tell me, love." The woman's hands leave Y/n's eyes finding her hips, trailing up to her waist, then dropping one between the woman's legs as the other clenches her breast. "Did it feel good?"

Y/n isn't able to respond.

Tears pour out of her eyes and she falls onto her knees. A sob plows through her.

It's nothing.

Nothing but

Guilt.

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