I had a nightmare st night.

  As, as all dreams are, I can't remember them; only the vague emotions felt during the dream. And through that night, an oh-so-familiar horror had gripped my heart.

  It's probably a nightmare reted to the months of isotion with my sister.

  Grumble-!

  Clutching my stomach in annoyance, I waited in bed for my mother to come feed me. The pangs of hunger shredding my stomach from the inside out are no longer enough to destroy me; I've gotten used to it.

  I don't have much to look forward to because I already know what the schedule is. Today's schedule will be something along these lines:

  Mother enters.

  Mother apologises.

  Mother feeds me.

  Mother washes and changes me.

  Mother takes me to the gardens.

  Mother takes me to the recliner.

  Mother scratches my neck somewhere along the way.

  I sleep.

  That's my day.

  Nothing more, nothing less; a repetition of a new form of boredom.

  The human mind is more versatile than I realised, a while ago I thought the gardens would be enough to entertain me forever; now, however...

  I need something new.

  It's too boring.

  I want to see my sister again.

  I've gone from one prison to another, and this one is worse than the old one.

  As I compined, the doors to the bedroom groaned open; as always, mother came in with a bottle and an apologetic look on her face; if my memory serves me correctly...

  Sweetie! I'm so sorry, I completely forgot to feed you!

  "Sweetie! I'm so sorry, I completely forgot to feed you!"

  The same words as always came flying out unashamed from mother's mouth.

  Unlike in the past, I didn't bother giving her a response, I merely reached my arms out towards the bottle of warm milk.

  Just give me the damn food.

  Holding the bottle in her right hand, she walked up to the bed and reached for me; but as she reached for me with her copy and pasted depressed look-

  Spsh!

  The bottle in her hand slipped out her fingers, and the cap, which for some reason wasn't screwed on properly, came flying off as milk spewed everywhere onto the ground. My food was spilled.

  I stared into my mother's eyes.

  And she stared down at the spilled food.

  A long silence filled the room.

  Then, she lifted her face.

  And I swear.

  I swear on my life.

  I swear on my sister's life.

  I swear on everything that encompasses me; she was smiling.

  A simple, quiet smile.

  But a smile nonetheless.

  But as quickly as the smile appeared, it dissipated like an illusion. Her face bore the heaviest of regrets as tears bubbled out the corners of her eyes and she:

  "I'm so sorry sweetie! That was all the food I had!"

  She rushed towards me, picked me up into her arms, and rubbed her face on mine. Her words were drenched with truthful sorrow and regret; genuine emotions. I can feel her emotions are real, but I can still feel that immense peace in my chest as I y in her arms.

  But.

  I saw it.

  I saw the smile.

  She doesn't know I'm a fully grown adult on the inside.

  She knows I'm intelligent, but she doesn't know I'm fully grown.

  All my suspicions collided at once as I arrived at a terrifying conclusion.

  Everything.

  From my first time waking up, to the starvation, the scratches on my neck;

  Was pnned.

  Yet.

  Even with that being the case.

  The peace I feel in her arms.

  It is undoubtedly real.

  I resisted the urge to bite my lips.

  As real as my love for my sister.

  The image of that personification of madness came flooding back.

  What is that thing doing to us? What are they pnning for us?

  The feelings I first had when I awoke came back to me; the illusion of hope and peace, that spark for a better future;

  It's because of this peace being forced upon me.

  Resisting the urge to let out a helpless chuckle, I reached a dreary conclusion—one I could only reach because of my unique existence as a reincarnated person.

  Everything is going as they pnned.

  That begs the question.

  If I weren't a reincarnated person.

  If I weren't an adult male.

  If I weren't intelligent.

  Would I have fallen for it till the end?

  Wrapping my arms around mother's neck, I tightened my grip to the limit; I tightened it enough to choke out another baby.

  Yes, I would have.

  Again;

  Horror gripped my neck.

  Suffocation tightened the noose, and the ominous thing hovering high above my neck seemed to draw closer.

  "I'm sorry honey... I won't mess up again tomorrow."

  Tomorrow, she says.

  Tomorrow, she states as she walks me out to the garden.

  Tomorrow, she decres as she hears my stomach crying out in despair.

  Tomorrow.

  This.

  This!

  Stickiness drowned my chest; a tar-like stickiness.

  A pitch-bck stickiness.

  Drip.

  I'm not crying.

  Drip.

  I'm.

  Drip.

  "Oh dear sweetie, what's making you cry?"

  I'm.

  I ignore the fingers wiping the liquid draining from my eyes.

  I'm not.

  -----

  Squelch!

  A vile noise sputtered from my empty engine, the churning stomach liquids beat the lining of my stomach repeatedly as my brain begged, and begged; and-

  Food.

  It begged.

  Food.

  Begged,begg-

  Foodofoodofooodofoo.

  Grumble!

  Mother's hand lightly patted my agonising stomach, her voice echoing in my eardrums: "Oh dear me, I'm sorry sweetie, you can eat tomorrow..." The peace of her embrace; the maddening hunger; the contradicting voice;

  I once thought...

  I want to eat.

  I once thought not much could be worse than death.

  Give me food, please.

  But starvation.

  I want to eat.

  This ravenous, abhorrent feeling in my stomach.

  Nothing is worse than this, nothing I've ever gone through is worse; food, give me food, I want food, food food fooodoofoofofofofofoofo!

  Food.

  Milk.

  My head thrust itself into mother's chest, reaching for the nipples hidden beneath her clothes; I know you produce milk, give me milk, I want milk.

  "Sweetie, where are you putting your head? There's nothing there~"

  Lying.

  You're lying.

  There's milk in your breasts.

  But all I got in response was a warm, fleeting smile; the same smile from before.

  "Dear me, you must be so hungry... I'm so sorry for being clumsy..."

  That's right, I shouldn't know there's milk in breasts. I've never experienced breastfeeding in this life but I don't care; I continued shoving my face into the soft cushioning of the fat-filled breasts.

  Give me.

  "Do you feel like sleeping?"

  No.

  Give me.

  "Let's put you to bed early then."

  Stop, don't put me down in this bed.

  "Good night~"

  Don't leave.

  Don't shut that door.

  Don't!

  Thud.

  The noise of the door crashing shut before my eyes froze my soul.

  ...Food.

  ...All I wanted was food.

  "Gya... Gya..."

  Soulless cries leaked from my throat.

  The sun, aurora, in the distance, was approaching its setting point; it wasn't long before night arrived. And I haven't been fed since yesterday; for 24 hours. An amount of time, for a baby, that could undoubtedly be pced on the same level as a grown adult having gone weeks without food.

  I'm dying...

  I'm certain of it...

  Grumble!

  My stomach gleefully reminded me.

  I need food...

  Staring at the ceiling through foggy, upturned eyes, I slowly lifted my tired arms. I raised them above me, allowing me a tantalising look at the mutton-like flesh and snow-white skin.

  I stared at the crispy exterior.

  The mellow fragrance.

  The glistening oils.

  Food...?

  Lowering the tantalizing tenders, I allowed the oily, fragrant chicken to grace my lips.

  Is this food...?

  Pushing them past my lips, I tried to bite down.

  Tried.

  But my few teeth were too weak to bite through the crispy chicken flesh, the delicious fried chicken; a food I hadn't had the chance to consume in ages.

  Something delicious.

  I ground down on the crispy flesh with all my might, embracing the textures of the chicken with my tongue.

  More.

  As I tasted the oils squelch past the tender flesh, I blissfully curled my eyes.

  So good.

  I gulped the oils down, I was satisfied with the oils alone. Getting past the crispy exterior and into the oils was a good enough accomplishment; in fact, consuming fried chicken of old is a miracle...

  Silently closing my eyes, I colpsed into a dense, ravenous sleep;

  I slept with endless churnings in my stomach.

  And all around Alora.

  Decorating her.

  Were crimson sptters.

  -----

  ...What?

  "Oh, dear sweetie... What have you done?" Dividing my torn fingers, mother tenderly rubbed the open wounds, antagonizing the pain further.

  Did I?

  "You shouldn't drink your own blood, sweetie. It's not good for your health. " Mother looked concerned and pyfully tapped her face, her stern gaze churning with hidden pyful intent.

  I drank it?

  Mother pulled out a handkerchief and started wiping the crusted blood lining my lips.

  That fried chicken?

  "Don't do it again, okay?"

  Was my fingers?

  After cleaning me up, my mother stepped back to the bedside table and picked up today's bottle. There, she stood dangling the warm, gss milk bottle. She shook it with loose fingers, teasing me.

  "Let's drink well today, okay?"

  Then.

  The look on her face shifted into one of panic.

  The bottle between her fingers slipped, and, in a heart-rending slow motion, I sat and watched as the gss bottle shattered across the tiled and carpeted floor; the stains erupted alongside mother's cry.

  I stared down at the stained, wet floor.

  Then, I looked back up at mother's face.

  She stared down at me with remorse; with curiosity.

  "Oh no~ You won't have food again today if you don't drink up..." With a downcast expression, she lightly tapped her face with a head tilt. Her oceanic-blue eyes oozed with palpable sorrow.

  And I.

  I crawled.

  I moved my body over to the edge of the bed, ignoring the pain in my fingers.

  I lowered myself to the floor and stood below mother's shadow.

  Then.

  I got on my knees.

  ...

  ...

  ...

  ...And licked.

  BrokenNose