Maggots.

I absolutely despise them.

The progenitors of flies, disease-ridden and full of filth, it makes me want to puke my guts out.

I was a child, at about five years old, when I met my first maggot:

They were crawling out of my caretaker's skull.

She was a good caretaker. Her name was Anna. I liked her well enough, but she messed up.

Messed up real bad, that's why she's dead now.

She fought with Father— sorry, Professor. I couldn't remember why, but I knew Professor was furious when I heard his deafening calls, like the roar of a lion:

"Maiacharl! Come to the living room," His booming voice thundered forth like a stampede of warhorses, raging through the damp stone hallway, violently breaking down my door and attacking me in my eardrums.

I didn't hesitate, and I stopped whatever I was doing and rushed out to the living room.

Stepping in, I found Anna chained to the wall, and Professor sitting on his armchair sipping wine. The room was dimly lit, with the only source of light being near-dying fire in front of Professor.

"Ah, Maiacharl. Come here," I must've gasped when I saw the horrible state she was in, as it didn't take long for Professor to call him.

She was naked. Nothing was covered, not even 'those' dirty spots.

She was a fair woman, Anna. Her body was unblemished, but to me, the most lovely thing about her were her eyes. Since we first met, her eyes have never lost their light, even when faced with the greatest obstacles this world had to offer.

'Beautiful...' I remembered blushing when I caught myself with those thoughts, and in a fit of shame, I scuttled over to Professor and his armchair.

Professor was huge. Not tall; huge. He was only 1.8 metres in height, but he always carried himself like a Cromwell Giant.

His face, wrinkled and scarred and eternally marred with a frown like it was a natural feature of his countenance, transformed into something far gentler when he spotted my diminutive figure from across the room.

"Professor," I greeted him with a hug.

As usual, I felt his prickly beard on the top of my head.

"Itchy~!" I remembered complaining then, but I never meant what I said. He always knew too, that's why he was never mad at me or my siblings.

"Hohoho... My sweet sweet daughter," My eyes twinkled when I saw his smile. He rarely smiles anymore after Brother Gregory died...

But enough about that! I still had to find out why Professor called for me.

"Maiacharl, do you know how much I love you?" He started, his large, callused hand never leaving the top of my head.

I frowned. This was new, but I thought nothing of it at the time and nodded.

"Then you know I'll never misguide you, yes?"

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Again, I answered his question with a slight, but noticeably hesitant nod. Looking back, I didn't really know why I couldn't keep myself focused on his words.

"And so you'll always listen to me, right?"

I didn't answer, but he didn't seem to notice— and if he did he didn't seem to care— and continued on.

"Do you see Anna? Do you see her, my daughter? She's done something bad to us, and I need—"

Anna.

So it was about Anna...

She was crying.

Her tiny, crystalline tears dripped generously down her sickly-pale cheeks, forming two long streams that connected when they ran down her chin.

"—Anna, will you help me punish her?"

I jumped when I heard the Professor and hurriedly replied, "Y-Yes,"

"Good,"

My body tensed up, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood stiff.

He's never used that tone with me before...

"Now... go," My body froze over in fear. I was trembling, my eyes couldn't focus anymore and my cold sweat began to run down my back. I knew what he wanted me to do: something inside me that was special, a 'great old one' I'd heard my father mention once, and he wanted me to use that something on her.

"..."

But my hesitation was clear to him, and possibly to Anna as well since she had stopped crying and was pleading to me with her gaze. I met it with a small smile, maybe he would forgive her and we could go back to—

"I see..." But that faint hope was crushed by the eerily chilling voice of Professor, "Then I suppose I'll have to do it myself,"

Step!

I hear him stand up and walk to Anna; each step he took was like a hammer to my head, and each time Anna twitched and struggled in her binds was twofold that.

Step!

"Mmph!"

Step!

"Mmphmp!!"

Step!

He stopped just shy of the wall, his arms were placed behind his back, and his face grim as he stared into Anna's soul.

"..." She had given up hope by now. She knew her life was already forfeit, and the light in her eyes disappeared. All she could do now was hope for a quick death, and one not by the hands of someone who she spent half a decade caring for and building a connection with.

Sadly, her wish wouldn't come to pass.

With a wave of his hand, I was dragged through the air and into his hand. I screamed my throat dry as I felt his dagger-like fingers gripping my neck.

"I know you won't remember much after this. But please, enjoy her suffering,"

I couldn't remember much else after this point, only that when I woke back up, I was holding her in my arms...

But she was no longer perfect.

No, she was no longer perfect...

And it was all because of the Maggots!

Oh, the MAGGOTS!

They were everywhere.

Their ugly, fat bodies crawled into her mouth, out of her eye sockets, and through her nose. They writhed and seeped into all of her: her throat, her stomach, lungs, brains and every possible nook and cranny imaginable.

And yet...

She was still alive.

I could feel it.

It was faint but I could feel it!

No, it wasn't faint at all! I could hear it with my everything. Like a fast-paced drum, it was beating over and over and over again!

What is that?! Get it out of my head! But my silent pleas went unheard, and I was forced to search for the source of the noise myself.

Desperate, I roamed across all her body in search of the source of that disgusting sound!

I started with her arms, then legs, then body. Nothing worked. I tried running my hands across her skin; that didn't work either. Just as I was about to admit defeat and run, I felt it.

Gudung! Gudung! Gudung!

My hand came to a stop atop her chest.

Gudung! Gudung! Gudung!

A dark sense of dread welled up in the pits of my stomach. It couldn't be, could it?

But as I pressed down upon her milky-white skin, I couldn't deny it any longer:

It was...

Her heartbeat...