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Pastry awoke with a jolt, sweat beading on her forehead and dampening her clothes. Her breathing was ragged as she took in the setting of the room she was in. Pastel pink walls, small bumps protruded from the painted plaster. Focusing too much on a certain spot caused it to melt and wither away, revealing sets of eyes from her past.
“Do you know how many you killed that day?” The walls mumbled, an eye with a black sclera staring at the lavender haired woman. Pastry only looked away, guilt manifesting into worms that began to eat away at her skin. “One hundred and twelve. You killed one hundred and twelve of my servants, my soldiers. my friends. Do you know how it feels, Pastry? Do you know how it FEELS?” In fear, the ex-nun curled up into a ball, hiding from the guilt of the past. Though the voice did not stop, in fact only getting louder with each attempt to ward it away.
She sobbed, tears running down her face and staining it with an unpure. At that point, the walls had completely chipped away to reveal an amalgamation of eyes. There were different sets of mouths, all tied to each other. Their rows of teeth were coated in saliva, drooling down as if eyeing a meal. More voices erupted from the flesh mixture that lived in her shelter hell.
“Did you tell anyone? Do they know about what we had?”
“You have missed morning prayer for the last time!”
“Come on, cheer up! You’ll get used to it.”
“You have failed the cleansing mission. Do you know what that means will happen?”
“Don’t tell anyone. What we have is special and Reverend Mother would not allow.”
“Book of Butter 16:2, ‘For The Witches created us in sin, we shall repent and cleanse ourselves for Them.’”
Pastry’s sobs turned into screams and heavy breathing as she attempted to ward off the voices. “Stop it! Leave me alone!” She yelled, voice raspy from overuse. Just as the creature was about to respond, its mouths closed as quickly as they opened. A hand placed itself on the ex-nun’s shoulder, earning a flinch and a heavy slap from surprise. She turned around only to face the woman she shared an apartment with, Parfait.
As apologies began to spill from her mouth with no clear connection, Parfait placed her hand on the other’s mouth. “Shh.. You’re okay now.” She hummed a melody, one so soft and sweet yet never heard. “I’m going to hug you now, is that okay?” Pastry weakly nodded, still stunned from the sudden comfort. Despite the hug only lasting for probably thirty seconds, it felt like ages. The humming continued, building the plaster that once tore down back up. As for the amalgamation, it was long gone, leaving nothing but a trail of drool and slime.
Though that was something to worry about for another day; for now, she was safe. And that is all that mattered.