➵ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓: 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 [𝐊.𝐓𝐇]

"It's lonely in here."

Matter of fact, you had been trying not to think at all as you sobbed, tears working their way down your face, burning like rivers of molten iron. They left scalding streaks down your face, salty and hot. You bit your lips to keep your sobs in, trying so hard not to make a noise as you silently cried.

You didn't cry often, and when you did, you tried hard not to alert other people that you were doing so. Now, even in the dark and the cold of the empty street, surrounded by black feathers and talons, it wasn't any different.

You had no idea how long you had blankly stared into space as the tears continued to dribble down your cheeks- you had no idea when you had decided to finally stand up and make your way to your apartment. You had been an empty husk, you mind trying to weave itself back together after being brutally ripped apart.

You didn't know what possessed you to take the damned sword with you, but you had been drawn to it, pulled to it. You weren't thinking when you had lifelessly wrapped your fingers around it. It most certainly wasn't as heavy as it had been when you had been fighting (right, FiGhTiNg) the harpies.

Yeah, well, I suppose housing AN ENTIRE PERSON INSIDE OF IT WOULD CONTRIBUTE TO THE WEIGHT FACTOR, DON'T YOU THINK?

There had been no vibration, no overwhelming weight, no pulsing, bright glow, only a faint gleam of red around the edges. It had turned normal once again... even though you were 100000+% sure it wasn't normal. You'd tried to push this to the back of your mind as you slowly walked to your apartment, acting rather like a zombie. You tried not to jostle the sword around too much in fear of some MORE weird sh*t happening, letting it hang loosely at your side.

The thing was, the second you entered your flat, the STUPID sword began to glow again... but this time it was joined with that STUPID, IRRITATINGLY GORGEOUS voice yelling at you.

LET ME OUT!

And then your zombie-like state had instantly evaporated and you had shrieked, dropped the sword, and backed as far away from it as possible. Maybe it was just your conscious... but no, it was too distinctly deep for that. It was familiar, and you knew who it belonged to. There was only one thought in your mind, the thought that had been occupying your mind since the first harpy had materialized behind you.

WHAT THE F*CK IS GOING ON?

And that familiar voice in your head had ANSWERED. I can tell you, but LET ME OUT!

You had then proceeded to let loose an ear-splitting scream once more and run to your bathroom, take a shower and hope that you had imagined everything.

No such luck.

You'd come back, now only dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, slightly more relaxed, and was assaulted again with a significantly more desperate screech. Please, I'm begging you, let me out of this place! I can't bear staying here any longer!

And that was when you gave your first real reply.

Oh HELL no.

See, when you experienced fear, confusion, sadness, or pain, you tended to get mad. Like really, really mad. You were a star student, an overachiever, a smarta*s. You were the one who was supposed to know everything, you were the confident, calm one.

So when you were punched in the face with this seriously confusing and utterly terrifying situation that you had just escaped from, you were done being afraid. Now, you were just pissed off.

But why NOT? the surprisingly childish and wheedling reply in your hind had put you off for a moment before you snorted.

Oh yes, you snipped, narrowing your eyes, letting loose the very person who just MURDERED CHICKEN LADIES IN FRONT OF MY EYES IN MY APARTMENT SOUNDS LIKE AN INCREEEEEDIBLE IDEA, THANK YOU.