Warning
XXXXXX is a young female girl of an unknown species. Though she appears to be about XX years old, she has aged not a single year in the past decade.
“hello…?”
i mutter, waking up from what feels like a coma. i dart my eyes around the immediate vicinity, trying to make sense of my surroundings. nothing feels familiar. my pulse quickens, and i feel a looming sense of dread.
i’ve come back to the place i left behind.
Even if she appears frail and meek, she is not to be trusted. Any life she impacts will struggle to recover from her actions. She will blame herself after each and every tragedy, only to then seek out the sparse voices among her den which soothe her, assure her, and convince her that she is not to blame.
This is, of course, in spite of the fact that she is a constant source of ruin for those who come into contact with her. She does not necessarily harbor ill intent — in fact, the lack of malicious design is what makes her dangerous.
“if… if you’re out there…” i whisper, my fluffy ears bending down in fear, “then… then say something…”
i hear a distant voice. no, some distant voices…? i don’t know what to make of it. some of them sound familiar. they put me at ease. another part of those voices, however… just who are they?
i get up onto my feet. i feel so weak. if i fall over, i would surely lose the light in my eyes forever more… “is.. is it okay..?” i mumble.
“i.. i mean, is it really okay..? for me to exist… for me to..?”
i hear those distant voices again. but… familiar or not… none of those voices are the one i’m seeking.
i laugh nervously, my gaze dropping the floor.
“c… come on… you wouldn’t just.. leave me here after all this time, right? i.. if i woke up again, you’re.. you’re here again, you’ve got to be… you promised to show me.. show me, that even in a desert, i.. i could… i…..”
again, it’s just the distant rumble of those voices. so many voices, all in my head. but i can’t hear the single voice i’ve dedicated my life to. the single voice i wanted to hear again.
“stop…” i shudder, dropping to my knees. “s-stop it…”
She is a child. A young, blooming parasite, infecting the host body with an illness that threatens to take it over. Whenever she speaks, it is as if her entire inner world grinds to a halt. In its place, it is only her, it is only ever her. It has always been her. How, then, could she be a parasite? How could one be invasive to the very seeds they plant?
Perhaps we should not think of her as the origin personality of her body, but as the twisted ripening of years’ worth of ruin. The world instinctively rejected her; from a young age, she was cast out, ridiculed, and excluded. It was not necessarily wrong to do this. Since her touch soon brings to ruin the environment around her, any space which harshly forbids her presence is left better as a result.
Paradoxically, however, it is this rejection that has led to her ripening. Her mental state has deteriorated, or perhaps accelerated, and she was born anew as a parasite of horrible potential.
She did not know it at the time, but she has constantly held the balance of humans’ lives within her very immature grasp. She has been responsible for so much of what has transpired in her life, yet she refuses to face the reality of it. She refuses to accept it. She is perpetually fleeing that which she gives rise to. In turn, her body does not reflect that which she should be; she is incapable of growth.
i felt empty, a while after that.
i didn’t make any real effort to get up from the floor. i laid down, the pulse of my heart as the only assurance i was alive. the only assurance that anything i did was real.
It is easy for her to garner sympathy. She only needs to seek out those who are not intimately familiar with her past. She needs only to omit certain details, to withdraw information that would reveal the core of her existence, the truth of her life. She is rotten on the inside and out, and were she to maintain an appearance befitting of such a rot, she would likely never succeed in finding anyone to listen to her. It is because she appears as a delicate, blooming flower, that she succeeds time and time again in attracting new, unassuming candidates. She will intertwine the threads of her doomed fate with these people, ensure their existence is now irreversibly altered or impacted by her very presence, and feed off their lives.
In stark contrast to her nature as a lonely, unwanted girl, she cannot survive alone. She needs those who will allow her to leech onto their minds, their hearts, and their very souls. Romance is the easiest avenue through which she can accomplish such a goal. In making someone infatuated with her, she guarantees their prolonged cooperation and kindness. In ensnaring someone like this, she can subsist off their love. No, more than that, she enjoys subsisting off their love. Instilled within her mind is the innate desire, the primal instinct to cohabitate, to intertwine, and to occupy an entire world. With a romantic partner, her parasitic tendencies are in full swing.
but i heard an entirely new voice.
it was one that took me completely off guard. one that… for some reason, felt warm… warmer than the one i wanted to hear…?
it couldn’t be. i was meant to rot. i was meant to be abandoned. why, then, would someone, why would anyone, take an interest in this mind of mine? this heart of mine? …this body of mine?
on shaky legs, i stood up from the floor. my hair was disheveled, and my ears were still pulled back in fear. my dress was hanging loosely off my body, and my wings… they weren’t even there, really…
but in spite of that, i began walking. on cold, aching, bare feet, i began walking. walking, and walking, and walking…
until our voices connected. until she saw me, heard me, felt me. i began sobbing…
i couldn’t stop sobbing. i leaned into her embrace, wrapping my arms as tight as i could around her body. she felt so soothing… did she truly love me so? i wanted to run away, but… feeling the warmth in her arms, i could no longer stand to doubt her love. it was the real thing…
crying even more, i shut my eyes tight. with a tender smile, i opened my eyes once more, gazing into hers with the innocence of a fawn.
reciting the line i had kept thinking up in my head, i began to speak.
“what do you think gives the dandelion seed the strength to spread?”
Under no circumstances should you trust her.
Under no circumstances should you lend her your aid.
Under no circumstances should you attempt to court her.
She does not deserve eternity.
She does not deserve love.
“it’s to be loved, by just one person in that entire desert.”