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And it falls.
It slides and hits the ground with the loudest thump.
Lithe body cracks in the way only an unloved toy does. Not a noise, nor a single tear. May as well be dead and ready to be disposed off.
Yet it still breaths.
It still writhes, it now heaves and seems to be ready to scream when its mouth opens slightly, reluctant, agape. Not a whine, just a soft and difficult breathing as if an enormous weight was on its chest, sometimes a wheezing noise. It never once dared to lament, however.
Fingers seemingly so delicate that if Omori wasn't so used to it happening, he would flinch seeing them move and not break and twist. Sometimes he hopes they do.
Sinful hands do not deserve to be delicate, nor to be free of wounds and broken bones.
It looks at him. Its fingers are wrapped around a single flower. Omori asked it to pluck a flower which was too high, barely under the edge of a cliff. He promised not to let it fall, his hands grabbing narrow hips while it tried to grab the tulip by nearing the end of the tree branch they were on a bit too much. Promises are made to be broken.
So it fell.
Omori climbs down after observing its heaving body for a while. It keeps looking at him, not a whine, head lolled to the side, eyes vacant, yet somehow still fixated on the way Omori is doing absolutely nothing. He could have helped, called for help, carry it or at least ask if it is okay, yet he's doing not a single one of these things.
The silence is cruelty. Omori makes sure it feels it.
It looks pretty, like this. Light eyes watery, delicate body spread out on the grass, the flower crown that was carefully placed on its head far from its body now, pink and soft lips agape, sweet. And most importantly, it did not speak, a prettiness Omori really appreciated. It has always been pretty, such a delicate beauty Omori wanted to cherish, yet it was prettier when it could keep its mouth shut. He could kiss it, if he wanted, he really could, he even considered the honeyed thought, wondering of tender lips against his own. However love is what it doesn't deserve.
It is made to love, but love is something it can't have.
Maybe, Omori could kiss until its lips split, blood and tears spilling right into his mouth, maybe he could even get it to whimper and sob for his ears. Sounds that aren't words are the only ones Omori wants from it.
Everytime it speaks the only thing it does is make Omori's heart hurt. Omori is growing weary, and wants nothing more than bite its tongue off. Everytime its sugary voice reaches his ears, destruction and deception is all what happens.
Sickly, disgusting and horrible.
So now Omori prefers to watch and enjoy, appreciating his favorite doll's sweet looks.