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Unwanted.
6. A liquid colored like the devil itself.

6. A liquid colored like the devil itself.

image [https://files.catbox.moe/8ypnqf.png]

Not… much to describe?

Obviously something had to have happened here

“I’m… sorry?”

“it’s exactly what it seems like. cut my neck with a sharp object, bled all over the fucking floor. what else do you want me to say?”

Silence takes over for the next few minutes.

The bleeding seems to have stopped, thankfully, meaning Kaira didn’t end up reaching the external jugular. Or the carotid artery for that matter, otherwise the beautiful marble ceiling would be painted red before anyone could do anything about it, and someone would have to clean that up, wouldn’t they?

Chloe grabs her now bloody jacket from the dusty floor, since it won’t be needed to stop anyone’s bleeding again anytime soon. The cold air around her skin renders her movements slightly shaky and makes it difficult for her to concentrate on anything but the shocks being sent through her nerves.

“oh yeah. uh. sorry about your jacket. i’ll grab something from my closet, there’s plenty of stuff there i never seem to use.”

Standing up suddenly is probably one of the worst things Kaira could do at this point in time, and unsurprisingly that ends up being exactly what she does. It takes about half a second from the moment she stands up to the moment she stumbles back to the floor, the only thing breaking her fall being a heavily startled Chloe.

“Don’t–”

“oh fuck.” she chuckles, “right, blood loss…”

Before you know it, she’s fallen unconscious on the woman’s two arms.

The strange girl’s skin seems to be covered in a thin layer of dull white fur, with the area being touched by the prosthesis standing upright in response to the cold layer of metal. The tip of her nose is reddish in tone, almost like a blush, contrasting the deep dark bags under her beady, black and amber eyes. Her eyelids close and open a few times in uneven delays, before the lack of consciousness finally shuts them for good. This whole predicament is nothing like what any of the two women are used to.

“...I guess it’s time to learn how much weight this design can handle.”

With a deep sigh, she readies herself. Not being the one bordering hemorrhagic shock makes the task of lifting a whole person a lot easier, even if said person is admittedly a towering presence from the carrier’s point of view.

Each step feels progressively harder to make, not due to the sheer weight being carried, but because having to worry about not damaging an extremely complex gadget at the same time makes things messy, to say the least, but the metallic arm seems to be handling the situation better than expected.

“I might as well do something about this clutter.”

this stupid fucking clutter…

someone’s gonna have to clean that up.

argh… can’t seem to do anything right.

“someone… god… fucking… damn it…”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Hello?

“...what?”

Uh… good… morning?

“i don’t… take guests…”

Slurring through her words, Kaira struggles to regain consciousness. The thoughts in her head are abstract and very hard to make sense of, almost being stuck in a dreamlike state; at least the headache seems to have subsided for the time being… Or not.

“head… ache…”

Chloe then bears witness to what could be the most sudden way a person with severe blood loss could possibly jolt up from having fainted just a couple hours ago.

“my fucking head hurts, man…” These words mimic the aggressiveness with which Kaira regained her consciousness, all said in her raspy, semi-deep voice. Its tone reverberates throughout the mansion, tainting the ambiance in its wretchedness.

“Hey, no, do not do that.” Says the woman carrying a pile of clothes in her… arm? Scouting the nearby area, Kaira notices a disembodied metallic arm laying on top of the antique dresser right next to Chloe, who briskly drops the neatly folded, color-coded pile of clothes and walks up to her, carefully placing a hand on her forehead.

“You need to rest.”

“i… what? oh, it’s you. why are you still here?” She gently grabs the woman’s wrist to move her hand somewhere less vulnerable.

“I… uh… I’m… cleaning…”

“...sorry if i scared you. i’m not used to using my voice. especially for… someone like you.” Kaira says while eyeing Chloe up and down.

“L-like me? Uh, I… do not see myself as exceptionally–”

“wait, cleaning? what the fuck do you mean?”

Chloe stares back like a puppy being scolded for misbehaving. “Uh… cleaning…?”

Kaira double-checks her surroundings, scouting for empty packages, tossed clothes, dirty shoes – anything that would even remotely resemble her usual living space. The best she could get was, oddly enough, something left by Chloe: a lightly worn-out origami swan made from a piece of napkin, one that had been folded and unfolded way too many times. It rested near the window, watching over its owner’s every movement on her journey to clean this ragged old mansion. Like an emotional support swan.

“...”

“thank… you… chloe, right? i think. i think it was chloe. your name, i mean.”

“Ah. You’re… welcome.”

The interaction ends with her smiling, a smile that Kaira can’t tell whether it is genuine or completely fabricated. That doesn’t really matter though, does it?

“... wait, what the hell happened to your arm?”

The mere sound of that question is enough to make Chloe’s ears perk up from dread – she’s been expecting for someone to finally ask that very question. So this is what it feels like to witness something “socially inappropriate”?

Bzzzt…

“what the fuck?”

Bzzzt…

“Fuck,” Chloe unknowingly whispers to herself, shuffling through her pockets in search of the phone currently emanating the less-than-pleasant buzzing sound.

Bzzzt…

“Shut up…”

“what?” The dirty words uttered by Chloe were like hearing someone say the most depraved slurs a mind can think of. Even if the words themselves weren’t exactly as bad, Kaira was completely taken aback by such a way of speaking coming from… someone like her.

As Chloe turns off the alarm, she mutters “I’m sorry, I have to go.”, excusing herself and gathering her possessions. Turning around right before going out the bedroom door, however, she stands there for a few seconds, as if searching for the exact words that can express what’s on her mind.

“...I’ll be back. To check on you. I promise.”

And within less than a minute, she left with everything she brought in, leaving Kaira by herself to ponder what exactly just took place. The swan is still sitting by the window, though, unable to do anything as it watches its owner stride onwards, far away from here.

She’ll be back, don’t worry, swan.

“...”

“thanks.” Kaira says, even if completely aware of the fact that the woman cannot hear her words from such a distance.

This is… probably the first time she’s properly had her wounds treated. Speaking of the wound, she removes the uncomfortable fresh bandage wrapped around her neck to reveal the now fully coagulated injury. Whilst attempting to rub it with her thumb as usual, she notices the texture has changed. It’s…soft? Not exactly coarse, but slightly soft. “that’s weird”, she thinks. “i guess it’s because of the stupid cream she put on it.”

It’s less sensitive than usual, probably as a result of not leaving the wound out in the open with no proper medical aid. She misses the coarse texture, though.

“...at least it’s not itchy for once.”

With no coarseness to feel against her thumb, she instead fidgets with the large flaps of excess dead skin on the edges of her wound.