The touch of a monster.
The edict of the death god.
The end of a journey.
She didn't even have the chance to scream.
Gloves looked around;
There lay innocence,
There lay purity,
There lay hope.
Yet, the three children -
Her half-siblings.
What would they think,
When they happen upon this death?
They were old enough to understand,
The cruelty of the world.
Where only the strong can remain,
And the weak must die.
Then, if they saw their mother, dead.
They would seek revenge,
After all, to them,
Their mother was everything.
Yet, to Gloves.
Mother was everything too.
Until she was nothing,
Nothing but a fading memory,
A lonely picture on a old, barren desk.
So, she would protect their innocence,
And send to heaven,
Three pure souls...
And to hell,
the adulterer sinner,
Whose hand caresses a corpse.