Blood.
Nishimoto’s hand had the scent of blood. It was faint, but I was sure of it. I would never be able to forget that metallic scent of blood that almost bathed me when I was young. The smell of blood that filled my nose and clouded my thoughts as my eyes watched how that liquid flowed out from my parent’s bodies.
How it quickly spread on the floor, as all their blood were drained from their bodies.
My heartbeat drummed obnoxiously in my ears. The sound was so loud that I could not hear anything aside from it, even my own ragged breaths. I could not even hear the voice of the man in front of me as he was calling my name. I just motionlessly stood there with widened eyes, filled with fear, as I met the gaze of the monster standing close to me – exactly a few centimeters away.
