Speakers blared loudly, the sounds reverberating throughout my entire body. My breath grew shorter and tighter. Which damn street was she on when the dungeon break started?
My legs grew hot and my side began to cramp as I ran down the vacant street in the South Bronx. Clouds hid the early sun and I was surrounded by small shops and apartment buildings, and one laughably small basketball court sat nestled in front of four stories of apartments. The sidewalk was dilapidated as the structures, and as I ran, I had to dodge some cracks and potholes, sapping a lot of my energy.
As I sprinted, the new autumn air stung my lungs as my breath grew shorter from running. Not to mention the pungency of New York coating my nostrils every time I inhaled. Sweat was gathered on my forehead, dripping down from my thick, curly black hair that sat comfortably just above my eyebrows. My green eyes that I was told my father gave me stung and burned as my shampoo mixed with the sweat, and I rubbed them and continued on, still blinking the liquid out.
I took a left down an alley to my left, running past graffiti covered walls and a dumpster, which seemed to be ineffective due to all of the trash I had to run over. When I got to the street over, it was the same bland mix of hole-in-the walls and apartments. I continued to the right, towards the direction I saw my Mom last.
I had a bit of a coughing fit running past the stairs to the subway, but kept jogging, sobered by letting out a big cough and spitting the phlegm. I sped up down the street, thankful there were seldom any people to weave around. I was wearing a new pair of Vans, so I was like a drag car, running quickly but I did not dare turn while sprinting. The sirens pierced my ears, yet the streets could not have been more quiet.
I slowed a bit and turned left down a block of four or five story apartments, all a bland mixture of rusty metal balconies and seasoned maroon bricks, with graffiti peppered amongst most of their walls. I saw a few windows that were left ajar in the chaos, their curtains blowing in the mild autumn breeze. The street felt almost muggy and heavy, and I could tell it was laden with condensed Manacules. I think I remember walking through this area as Mom and I walked to school 40 minutes earlier. We were split up as everyone herded towards the bunkers underneath the city, built during the Decade of Brutality, which ended seventy years ago. In the midst of the panic and unruly sea of people, I heard Mom yell for me to run and hide, and so I did, because I trust Mother. However, we were separated. I prayed she was okay as I wiped sweat from my brow, my body burning with exhaustion.
"But where the hell are you, Mom?!" As I finished muttering, my left stride landed atop my right's shoelace, and I was sent flying onto my hands and knees, catching myself. My hands and knees dug into the concrete as it tore flesh and birthed a few blood blisters on my palms. I inhaled sharply through my teeth and cringed, then swung myself onto my rear and tried to ignore my bleeding knee, and my freshly ruined jeans. These were for the first day of school, dammit! I stood up, grimaced and pushed on, albeit at a much slower pace, down the valley of buildings.
I took a few paces before coming across an alley, sparing a glance. My eyes barely caught a flash of red and white halfway into the alleyway and I stopped in my tracks. My eyes widened and my breath faltered before a sudden return to an even quicker pant. It was Mom. She lay there, her body mangled. Her brown hair appeared black from being soaked with blood. She breathed loudly and strained, blood obstructing her lungs. My vision blurred as I cried out to her. I unfroze from my shock and ran a few paces into the dirty alley to where she lay.
I dropped to my knees and could only make out her face through the sea of my tears. I lowered myself, held her, lukewarm blood bleeding through my shirt and soaking my skin. I took her in my arms, panicking.
"M-Mom!!!" I shouted, shaking her, hoping she would be okay. Her face was shabby and bloody, and growing pale. Her face was covered in grime and blood, blemishing her beauty. She looked at me and smiled tiredly, her red stained teeth peeking through her bloody lips.
"You…" she breathed sharply, "…should be in a bunker right now," she finished, still breathing sharply and quick. She wheezed as she drew breath, and she looked both so scared and so tired. "It…was," she coughed and inhaled quickly "…Lycans,"
Hot tears welled around my eyes, and a lump caught in my throat. I spoke shakily, "I-I…I couldn't just leave you here, Mom!!! I-I was scared a-a-and we got separated a-and…and" My words drifted off as she wiped tears from my face, only prompting further tears. Her skin was frigid against my sweaty and tear-ridden face. I wailed like a child, holding her hand against my face as I sobbed, angry at the world for letting this happen, angry at myself for getting lost. My face was red and puffy, my lungs still tight from running. I was so angry and so defeated. I selfishly wished for her consolation.
"Tato," blood caught in my mothers throat as she lay in my arms. She spoke strained and quietly, her voice contained to the dirty Bronx alley she lay bleeding in. She inhaled sharply after coughing the blood out of her lungs and continued, breathing sharply between words, "you know…I love you…right?"
I forced a smile through the salty tears moistening my face, and held her hand tighter against my face. I answered, my breath shivering "O-of course I know mom." I shuddered a breath. "I…I love you too, mom. So much." My mothers blood was turning cold on my skin as it continued to bleed through my new middle school uniform. Her hand was so cold on my face. I whispered, "I love you too."
My eyes impulsively flashed away from my mother's face for one moment, and I gasped as I saw her body, my mouth beginning to sweat. The Lycans had left her half eaten, flesh hanging off the bone on her legs, her belly was leaking blood like a waterfall, her entrails exposed. The metallic and rancid scent of her slow suffering made me avert my eyes in pure shock. I held down my bile.
Her eyes found mine, and she gave another sharp inhale. "The…the Stars…Tato." Her voice was raspy, quiet and strained. The life in her eyes was slowly dissolving, losing color, and her breathing began to dull. Her body was growing heavier in my arms. She struggled with the words, "You must…" she inhaled shakily, "…Stars" she choked on more blood. She did not cough, but grew wholly limp, and weighed heavily on my legs and in my struggling arms.
"M-ma…MOM!!!" I screamed, shaking her body. The color drained from her face as it grew still. She appeared grey and dull, my world matching her hue. Her blue eyes lacked their color, staring unflinchingly above at the cloudy skies peeking out between the two apartment buildings. As I looked at her in a panic, I realized that it was no good to rustle her. I did not check her breathing. I knew . I sat there, in the grimy, graffiti covered alleyway in the Bronx, still, empty, and in shock.
The speakers from the Decade of Brutality continued to blare a futile warning of an S-level Dungeon Break in the South Bronx, yet still, my world was frozen and colorless; unmoving and silent. My thoughts raced at an unruly pace as my arms and legs went numb under the weight of my mother. A rat scurried and squeaked past me. Her blood dried and darkened on my olive skin, and turned my shirt the color of rust.
At that moment, frozen under the weight of my dead Mother, I felt nothing but shame.
I lived.
She died.
Because I got lost. Because I am weak.
Because I, who has no magic, am no more than a pitiful child, unable to protect.
It was me. It was me.
I killed her.
If I had Magicule vessels I could have healed her.
If I could run faster
If I could fight.
I could have spared her for even a second longer.
I killed my mother.
I may as well have fucking killed her.
I still could not stir. I smelt the rotten, metallic scent decomposition and gagged, growing dizzy. A feeling of intense shame ran from my head to my feet. My vision faltered, my torso grew light as my head, and a tunnel of fractals caved in on my vision. I passed out, my dead mother still in my arms.