Get out of my life

Forget me not

I dragged myself out of the pod, the blood leaking from my side, I had never wanted anything more than to go into space. And now, here I am, back in Cuba, dressed in slut clothes, blood pouring out of my wound. I wandered the street, ignoring the screams that followed me. 

"Hey kid do you need help", 

"Holy shit", 

What happened", 

"someone call the police". I pushed past all them, only focusing on the path home, my hands sweeping over the speckled shells my sister had placed out for me, to follow.  It was just me, crawling on my hands and knees, blood rushing down my chest as I was rushing to get home in time. 

"Kid, calm down, wheres the murder", a man grabbed my shoulder, his voice glistening with the same blackness as Lotor.

"Fuck off man, I need to get home". A slight gasp from him at the fluent spanish I was speaking. "L-Lance". I nodded, my heart turning cold, the name was too painful for me, flash backs coming back to me. "H-Here, let me take you home, I'll carry you back", I shook my head, pushing him off. I continued to crawl, my body screaming for water or food, everything burned in my body,  "I'm sorry man, I need to get their on my own", quickly I limped passed him, a shriek with every shuffle, my hands slicing open and bruising.  

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There was screams in the streets, and I couldn't see why. All I knew was that someone was dying, and they refused to except it. Worry for my family was building up in me, I didn't want anything to happen to my only child left. My grip on the garden trowel grew more and more as the shrieks were getting closer, the worry starting to grow more,   

"Tessie, what's going on"? My husband walked out, a dish rag in his hand, our daughter cowering behind my skirts.

"I don't know Darling, I just here all these screams, and something about murder", we stared at the empty streets, a few people walking passed here and there with first aid or a phone dialing the police.And suddenly, just like that, all of the noise seemed to grow hushed, before a name was called out.

"It's the Mc lain boy, h-he's back". The plates in my hand dropped to the floor, shattering to peices. 

"M-my baby". I walked out off the porch, craning my head to around the corner, my eyes tracing over Issabella's shells. 

"Mama'", I gasped, the figure walked forward, covered in blood, a the skin on his eyes seemed to be torn to bits. Hair bright, stark white, I ahd to hold in my gasp, it was still my baby boy, and he came back, despite everything. I rushed over pulling him close, sobs leaving my mouth as Issabella rushed to join us, my husband being the last to join, all of us sobbing. "I made a promise Mama', no ones going to break our families forget-me-not promise". I nodded ruffling into his long white hair, laughing, crying, screaming, smiling. My baby boy was back, b-but, I pulled everyone off looking at his wound, the blood spilling out in buckets. 

"L-Lance, who did this, what happened"? He chuckled running his hands over the wound, slight gasps of pain came from him. 

"I made a promise another promise I intended to keep", his face hazy seemed to turn dark, before he slumped over in my arms. Issabella screaming in the background. Everything about him seemed dead, from his eyes, body, hair. Everything mangled and perversed, the defintion of flaw in his once beautiful body. Someone one did this to my beautiful boy, someone made him like this.