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The Batter made his way through the familiar place. Breath deep to hide uncertainty, fists clenched to hide reluctance. Vader Eloha would draw her final breath, sometime soon.
He killed to live, he knew it. He could try all he'd like, his impulse would take over, the will to live, the will to persist. This world is hostile. He needs to kill. He needed to do something.
Vader Eloha would walk slowly in front of the half-opened door to his room. She wouldn't utter a single word, fearing that he too would notice that she had forgotten his name. Every time she walked past his door, the breaths he took grew more painful, as the Queen walked away from the one who needed her most. She wouldn't utter a single word, fearing that he too would notice that she forgotten him, entirely.
Every breath hurt, so he replaced those with murder. Yes, that makes sense.
He was not a being of love, or tenderness. The world died twice, and killed him with it somewhere along the line. This was rightful vengeance, this was just, this was fair, and nothing deserved the life he gave. This world killed him. This world destroyed him, it's only right he give the favor back. He may have not been made for this, but God's hand pushed him that way, and he sure as hell couldn't look back now.
He stood before stairs. He hadn't seen them in a long time, and they felt strangely daunting. Was this fear? No; he wasn't afraid. Still, the urge to run the other way, and never look back, plagued his mind shyly. But he went up the stairs, to be greeted by The Queen, and the vain throne of a ruler with no remaining subjects. He walked silently to her; she looked older, just slightly. She was waiting for him, standing upright, hands tucked neatly behind her, a vacant smile painted carefully on her face.
The childhood ache to hear her voice left him, as the words she uttered pulled any doubt he had to kill her out of him; he too noticed that she had forgotten him, entirely.
Chains and bats flung, songs resonated, yet the sounds of impact and injury felt silent. Death loomed, the Batter knew it wasn't coming for him. The distant echo of a childhood could do nothing against his wrath, and no amount of reluctance would cure the wound of his youth. Bats flung, songs screamed, and the Queen fell to the floor. Blood trickled down her grey face. She lifted it, to face the Batter. Short silence weighed, before she spoke.
"You have his eyes..."
His eyes? His eyes? Mother, do you not see him? Does his face not come back to you, with those eyes you dare to recognize? Still, those words do not leave him, as he watched how the grey blood trickled down his mother's tender face, how her arms struggled to hold her dying weight up, how she drew her last empty breath. His mouth uttered words different to his thoughts, though, before he could think.
"They are full of fear."
She collapsed, no retaliation came out of her. He came closer, pushed her on her side. Her body rolled on her back. Thick, silky white hair spilled over her lifeless face. She was dead.
Matricide is a crime.
Mothers care for their children. They don't walk in front of half-opened doors wordless, they don't walk away from the ones they care for. Mothers should remember names. Mothers should remember. And the Batter would’ve committed no crime there, for Vader Eloha couldn't bring herself to remember… But something else died at that moment.
Hugo, creator of life, died the day the Batter swung that bat for the last time. That was the crime he committed that day.