I opened my eyes slowly, cold sweat dripping down my face.
It felt like the whole house was shifting… the walls pulsing, as if a colossal heart was beating around me, drowning me in blood.
Shadows crawled across the floor, climbing over the couches, weaving together at my feet.
Without thinking, I stretched out my left hand… and the darkness answered.
From the cracks in my skin, black tendrils burst forth like venom—writhing, throbbing… alive, desperate to escape into the world.
A faint chuckle slipped from me, but it quickly twisted into a jagged, broken laughter.
I could no longer tell… was it truly me laughing? Or was it the hell inside me, mocking through my lips?
I raised my hand before my face. Dark blades slowly emerged—longer… sharper.
My clawed fingers trembled, as if tasting blood that hadn't yet been spilled.
And in that moment, the truth struck me:
I was no longer just a survivor…
I had become a black birth—
a birth of slaughter.