valtsv:

"I tell them that they survived, in their hundreds - miraculously and inexplicably, dodging the bombs. Not a single victim, not one death. An act of divine mercy.

When that doesn’t work, I tell them that they were buried properly, according to whatever rites or customs they happen to cherish.

When that doesn’t work, I try and turn them into my mother again, in the hopes of making the dead people hateful to me.

When that doesn’t work, I tell them that I’m sorry. I tell them I wish they still had ears to become all the wondrous imaginings I had in store for them."

she can't raise the dead. she can't leave the world a better place than she found it. she can't even change it into something that makes her capable of accepting the way it is. she's a weapon, and weapons can only draw blood and pain.

drawing of a person all all fours screaming and sobbing