“What are you doing…?” 

Her voice was filled with tears and sadness that could overwhelm the weakest of hearts, yet it sounded fake.

“I’m just doing my duty.”

I said it in such a detached tone that I could not believe I sounded human. 

Click… 

The sound of a pistol being cocked and its coldness cuddled in my warm hands, yet there was no warmth felt. 

“Your duty…? Killing your own sister is your duty?!”

She screamed again, her voice drenched in plea and agony—a cry for forgiveness and salvation. 

“I’m just doing my duty.”

Smash!

She threw a glass at me.

“Please… Please… Don’t do this… Why would you murder your sister for a bloody duty…?!”

She pleaded again.  

“You aren’t my sister. My sister was killed a long time ago.” 

I muttered.

“What do you mean…?! I am right here!” 

"My sister died a long time ago because I killed her." 

Silence.The best kind of silence is the silence after a loud gunfire or when someone is left with nothing but an empty shell and disbelief in what they have heard with their own trusty ears. 

Her deep purple eyes, with the red scars of tears, screamed surprise. They were focused on me. The same eyes I saw seconds before my sister died. The very eyes that shattered my heart. But, as realistic as they appeared, those deep purple eyes were nothing more than empty balls of mimicry. 

“You killed your own sister?” She spoke, her once-crying voice now reduced to a statue's coldness, looking up at me from where she lay with her limbs tumbling everywhere in that pale, white dress. Her body pressed in between the holes in a brown wall that appeared to have been punched, her dejected gaze peering into my soul as if I were the prey and she was the hunter. 

I had no desire to reply. I just grabbed my metallic silver pistol tighter, and she noticed, looking back at me quickly. Her limbs crunched loudly as they snapped into position, transforming her body from twisted noodles to a balanced structure. 

“You’re interesting,” She chuckled, her wild purple eyes gleaming through her long blonde hair that cascaded down to her shoulders, and she slowly got to her feet while maintaining eye contact with me.

"I guess I should say thank you," I muttered in return, observing her every move as she slowly wrapped herself around me like a snake, her nose twitching as though she were taking in my scent. 

"You smell just like me, only softer." She said, stepping back as a devilish grin twisted her lips until they ripped to the corners of her face, her eyes bulging like madwomen and showing me all those purple veins that were pumping. 

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"Well, I am regarded as a half-mantoid." I spoke quietly, observing the purple blood trickle down her pale skin from her mouth. 

"No, no, no. I am familiar with the scent of a half-mantoid. They still smell like humans, but you don't." Her deep, reptilian breath brushed my skin as she leaned in very close, whispering softly as a bit of her purple blood trickled onto my right shoulder. She then extended her long, skinny, and scrawny tongue, slowly dragging it up the right side of my cheek, leaving a trail of saliva behind, and asked, "Are you even human?"

I was unable to respond to that. 

“What happens to your skin if I cut it? Will you bleed purple like I do?” She danced around me in the burnt hallway, giggling like a child, eager to learn something new with her toy. 

Slash!

Splatter…

Thump…

A neat cut appeared where her head was slashed off. I followed her head down the dimly lit hallway before turning to see her lifeless body sprawled out next to me on the blackened wood floor. Green smoke billowed from her as her body withered and shrivelled, leaving behind an odorous stench. 

“Do you even care about your survival?!” A distressed man's voice exclaimed. It was a voice I recognised instantly. Glancing up, I saw a short white-haired man with a scruffy brown goatee and purple eyes staring down the hallway at me in his tanned, ragged pilot suit, worry in his eyes. 

“Well, I couldn't-” I restrained myself from speaking. I could not openly say that she resembled my sister, whom I had killed. Instead, I chose to remain silent and gazed at the man with a detached expression in my eyes while turning my head to face the lifeless body, which resembled a tangled mass of green gue. 

“An HC-Type Mantoid? What is one doing in Type-2 mantoid territory?” The man with the goatee, who had previously expressed concern for my survival, now showed curiosity in the glint of his eyes. It seemed as though the machines in his head were clicking as he drew closer and fixed his gaze on the untidy green gue, oblivious to the foul stench. 

"I saw her when I was checking out this hotel," I remarked, observing as the man's gaze shifted from the disorganised mess to me. 

“Hm… Usually, you do not refer to the mantoids as "she" or "he," and you kill them in an instant. And yet, I am here to save your ass while you allow this mantoid to simply dance around you." With a suspicious mutter, the man scratched his chin as though attempting to understand me better.  

“Do I have to give an answer, Eagle?” I answered, maintaining eye contact with him while Eagle studied me for a few more seconds. Then, he released his hand from his chin, sighed deeply, and shook his head slightly back and forth. 

"Not really, no. Raven, you are not really the talkative type. However, it will not make me any less wary of you, you little bastard." The serious glint in Eagle's frown vanished as a grin appeared on his lips. He gave me a shoulder pat and laughed, saying, "Look, if all you are interested in is that mantoid's appearance, then I will leave you alone for a little while."

Then, as Eagle left the hotel to return to the camp, the faint light that had crept into this dark hallway disappeared. Alone with myself, I watched the green gue gradually dry up and merge with the floor. 

Why did she look like my sister? Was it a punishment? A punishment for me killing my own sister? 

When I looked up, the only thing shining in the pitch-blackness was a fractured reflection of myself in the bathroom. I was fighting with this mantoid who looked like my sister, and during our fight, the bathroom door was ripped off. 

But, was that really me? Do other people think that I look like that? Staring back at me were purple eyes devoid of light, almost appearing black, and my white, short, dishevelled hair, which covered my pale, malnourished skin. 

Or is it just my perception of myself? A human with no future?

“Kelvin… Please…!”

She sounded so traumatised. That's all I remember. Her cry and her plea for help. 

"Ke͡lv͟in̴… Plea̴se…!"

"K̛͜͝e̕͡͞l͝v̸̵͢i̢̡͘ņ̡͞…̛ P̷l͢ę̧a̢s̶ę͝…̷!͢͟͞"

"K̡͘E̢̛͠L̶͜V̡I͜N̢̡…!"

It was something I had to do. I had to pull the trigger. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I didn’t want her to become like me. 

“Kelvin… please! Don’t do this…!” 

She screamed so loudly as she slid and sprawled on the wooden floor, trying to escape the house that was drowning in blood. Her and my parents' blood, which seeped from my parent’s heads while they sat against the sofa with their eyes closed, had passed the threshold. 

I had to kill them too. 

“Sorry… Helia…” While Helia was struggling to balance on the front door and her hands were shaking the door knob frantically in an attempt to snap it and break free, I muttered as I raised the pistol and pointed it at my sister. Her eyes were filled with crimson veins, her tears were cascading down like rivers, and her cries were escaping her lips. “I cannot allow you to become like me…”

“What do you mean…?!” She screamed and stared directly into my eyes, doing her best to maintain her strength. 

“To become a monster.” 

BANG! 

That was a memory that still haunts me, like the devil perched on my shoulder, causing numerous lumps in my back that are just waiting to explode, engulf me in guilt, and choke me. 

But all I felt was emptiness as the mirror in front of me kept cracking glacially slowly. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to die, but I did not have the humanity to cry. With every battle I engaged in with the mantoids, I was losing every last shred of my humanity.

I was becoming more like them. 

Drip… 

Drip… Drip…

Tears gushed from my eyes and down my cheeks, but they were not the typical kind. 

They were purple.