Dead, dead,
The sea of red.
All of them
Dead, dead,
And it's not enough.
That's what she said.
That's what she said.
She's wearing white in the darkness. It's a dress, thin and insubstantial. It hangs loosely on her.
She doesn't know where she is. She's lost, she's confused.
Something's dripping. Dripping. Tap tap tap.
She smells it. She tries to not look afraid.
She takes a step forward and now she's standing in it.
Blood, of course. It stains the bottom of her dress.
"It's not enough," she whispers.
She walks in it. It ripples and splashes. It's everywhere. The dripping comes from the ceiling. She feels it land in her hair, trickle down her face. She watches little drops of red splash onto her arm.
Now she's dripping it too. It sounds like rain.
She almost trips over something in her way. She looks down at the half-submerged object, its clothes floating in the red.
"Bruder," she says softly, and she looks over and sees another, and she says "Mutter," and softest of all, "Vater."
She steps over them delicately. The blood is seeping upwards slowly, displacing the white of her dress. Her hair feels heavy with it, she can taste it upon her lips, and the smell lingers everywhere.
She sees others. Men and women in uniforms, their ranks stripped off their shoulders. She smiles lovingly at them and thinks of a wooden box in a hidden drawer. There are normal people here, too, people she does not quite recognize.
"It's not enough," she says again, louder this time, and it echoes somewhere.
She starts running, her feet splashing down into the blood. It feels thicker now, but it doesn't impede her.
Now she wears a dress of the deepest and most beautiful red.
Bodies are everywhere now. Some are disfigured. Some are in pieces. Some are face up, some are face down. Some stare at her, others sleep peacefully, floating. It comes up to her knees now, and she slogs through it.
"IT'S NOT ENOUGH," she screams, loud as she can, and hits the surface with her fist. Blood splashes up into her face, into her mouth, her eyes, her nose. She retches violently.
It's coming higher now, past her knees, up to her waist. She's practically swimming in it. There seems to be no end to this sea. She can still feel her feet grazing things on the bottom, and she's afraid one will reach out and grab her ankle and pull her under.
She sees something ahead, and she moves towards it.
He's standing there, on an obsidian platform in the middle of the whole ocean. His clothes are black and his hands are in his pockets. He looks down at her, and their eyes meet.
She's up to her neck in it now.
He doesn't say anything, merely looks out behind her, towards the bodies, and then back to her. Disgust is written plainly across his face.
"All of them," she says quietly. She's shaking a little and it makes small waves. "Dead, dead."
She moves slowly through the liquid towards his platform, reaching up, desperate to get her hands around him. She feels her hatred burning in every nerve.
She's almost there, almost there, just a few steps more.
She looks into his eyes again, and she knows, she knows.
"It's not enough," she whispers to him.
She steps and there's nothing there anymore.
She plunges beneath the surface like a weight, choking, drowning, drowning.