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墨書 Inktalez
She knelt on the ground, her entire body trembling slightly, as if still enduring some lingering pain. Blood covered her face, and her skin was torn and ragged from previous assaults, creating a grotesque tapestry of crimson and flesh tones. But soon, a horrifying scene unfolded—her facial wounds began to heal at an astonishing rate, the torn flesh and broken skin rapidly mending as if sewn back together by invisible threads. The speed of recovery was so incredible that it left one questioning whether the previous horror had truly existed.
She slowly lifted her head, her gaze gradually sharpening. A long exhale escaped her nostrils, her voice deep and resonant, as if releasing the pressure built up within her. Her expression shifted from chaos to calmness, even carrying a hint of near-relief, as if the recent atrocity was merely an inconsequential accident.
Her hand gently reached toward the corpse on the ground, her fingertips gliding over his stiff arm, the cold sensation mingling with the blood on the floor. Her movements were unusually tender, as if she were caressing a precious treasure; that lifeless body seemed like carefully chosen material for an unfinished work of art.
Lowering her head, the corners of her mouth curled up slightly, her tone eerily gentle as she whispered to the corpse:
**"It's okay, really. It's all right. We still have plenty of time."**
Her hand moved across the corpse's chest, pausing for a moment as if feeling for a heartbeat that had long since stilled. Her voice softened further but carried an undeniable resolve:
**"I can… slowly transform you. You will understand in time, yes, you will understand."**
She raised her head again, a strange smile spreading across her face—a smile like a warm sunbeam in winter, both comforting and strikingly bright. Her eyes brimmed with an expectation that brooked no refusal, as if she were not speaking to a lifeless body but making a promise to something on the verge of rebirth.
The blissful smile grew more pronounced as she gently cradled the corpse in her arms, handling it with the utmost care like a mother would with her child. Her fingers brushed against his face with deep affection and confidence as she murmured:
**"It’s all worth it; I know you will understand."**
As her voice filled the room, a subtle change in atmosphere occurred—something intangible in the air seemed to awaken, quietly observing her and the corpse. Her smile became warmer still, as if she were immersed in pure joy at that moment, oblivious to everything else and utterly satisfied.
She smiled down at the corpse on the ground; though her expression remained tender, it gradually twisted into something eerie. Then, her mouth slowly opened wider and wider until it split into four segments, revealing rows of sharp teeth glistening ominously within. Those teeth shone coldly and were arranged haphazardly, like tools born for tearing.
Lowering her head again, she tightly enveloped his shoulder with her four-part mouth and bit down hard. Her teeth effortlessly pierced through flesh and skin; blood gushed forth instantly, warm liquid filling her mouth. The salty taste of blood mixed with a faint metallic tang exploded on her tongue as she closed her eyes and let out a low moan of pleasure, as if savoring an unparalleled feast.
**"Still warm..."** she murmured to herself, blood trickling from the corners of her mouth and dripping onto the floor, merging with the pool of blood that had already spread out. Her eyes trembled with excitement as if she had just tasted divine nectar, utterly satisfied.
The scent... had it been thirty-six hours since she last tasted it? Or was it thirty-eight? She whispered to herself, a hint of confusion lacing her voice, but the confusion faded quickly because, for her, time held no significance. All she knew was that she now possessed this exquisite flavor—warm, tender blood and flesh seeping into her body, bringing an almost maddening sense of satisfaction.
She lowered her head, her mouth tearing at the meat with fervor, teeth crunching with a "crunch, crunch" sound, accompanied by the ripping of skin and flesh. Each bite sent shivers through her body as if every sense had peaked in that moment.
"This is love..." she murmured softly, her mouth filled with unchewed blood and meat, her voice muffled yet imbued with deep affection and madness. "Isn't it true? To consume the one you love means to be together with them forever?"
She smiled, a smile tinged with a morbid sense of happiness, as if this was some sacred ritual. She extended her tongue to lick the bloodstains from the corners of her mouth before diving back into her feast. This banquet was so precious to her, carrying a kind of religious reverence.
"And you know..." she paused, lifting her head slightly, the corners of her mouth curving up to reveal blood-stained teeth, her tone as casual as discussing afternoon tea. "I've done this one thousand two hundred times."
Her hand gently caressed the face of the corpse, her eyes filled with obsession and madness. "One thousand two hundred times—a beautiful number, isn't it?" After saying this, she lowered her head again and tore off another large chunk of flesh, chewing harder and more urgently.
Her actions grew increasingly frenzied; her mouth made wet sounds as blood splattered across her face and clothes, but she paid no mind. Each bite was filled with passion; each swallow felt like a merging of souls with her beloved.
In this silent revelry, her smile grew brighter, and her gaze more deranged, as if she truly became one with the already cold body, achieving an eternal existence.
You jolted awake in bed, gasping for breath as if you had just escaped from an endless abyss. Your chest heaved rapidly; each breath felt like a struggle to reclaim life. Cold sweat soaked your back, clinging to your clothes and sticking to your skin; that damp chill made you feel nauseous and uncomfortable. You reached up to touch your forehead and found even the hair at your temples dampened by sweat, as if you had just endured a feverish torment.
The room was eerily quiet—too quiet. A faint musty smell lingered in the air; the curtains were drawn tightly shut, casting shadows on the ceiling from the dim light. Everything in the room remained in place—the small table by the bed, the mirror across from it, the wardrobe against the wall—motionless like a scene frozen in time.
You slowly raised your hand to touch your neck; when your fingertips brushed against your skin, you couldn't help but shiver—you could still feel that pain, that sensation of being gripped by an icy and immense force. Even though nothing touched you at that moment, you felt suffocated as if every breath carried a sharp sting.
Your right shoulder and back throbbed dully, as if something had bitten into them. You pressed your hand against your shoulder; the sensation intensified as if teeth had left deep imprints on your muscles. You looked down but found no marks on your skin.
"No... this doesn't feel right." You murmured to yourself, your voice trembling in a way that felt foreign. You rolled out of bed, your feet hitting the cold floor, the icy sensation jolting you awake.
You glanced around, and every corner of the room seemed to have grown darker, an indescribable sense of oppression hanging in the air. You could hear your own heartbeat, thudding heavily against your chest, as if urging you—leave, hurry and leave!
You hurriedly yanked open the drawer beside the bed, grabbing the scattered items within—your keys, phone, and a crumpled note. It was a list of rules. You stared at it as a flurry of fragmented images flashed through your mind: those rules, those warnings, and the whispering voices.
Trembling, you gathered your belongings and dashed toward the door. The moment your hand grasped the doorknob, your palm was slick with cold sweat, making it difficult to hold on. You twisted the knob and yanked the door open; the dark hallway loomed before you like a gaping maw silently devouring your courage.
But you did not falter. "No, I have to get out of here," you gritted your teeth and took that first step, as if this moment marked the beginning of your break from fear.
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