Violated Memory (Yomi Isayama)
|Violated Memory (Yomi Isayama)|
|Date of Cutscene:||01 January 2019|
|Synopsis:||The reason why Yomi hates butterflies|
|Cast of Characters:||Yomi Isayama|
The room was nearly pitch black, and all Yomi could hear was the soft thumping of a heartbeat. After a few seconds, a soft, eerie blue light filtered through the room.
There were two other figures there, both taller than her. She should have been scared, but she wasn't. There was something familiar about them, and the memories formed on her lips before coalescing in her mind: "Mama. Papa..."
"Shhh..." came the soft order, as her father pushed her back. She felt something soft all around her, the dangling fabric of hanging clothes, and the eerie blue light was soon reduced to a slit as the door was closed. She could still see, though, vague outlines of her parents in the room beyond.
Something bright flitted past the closet door. She couldn't make it out. Her parents' forms were obscured for a moment before she could see them again, slowly turning to face something... something past them. She couldn't see what.
More bright shapes fluttered around. There was a wet sound, and her father collapsed to the ground, followed a split second later by her mother. Even in the darkness, Yomi could see the darker puddles spreading on the floor. Her eyes widened in terror as she looked up, and even though she was inside the dark closet looking out through the tiniest slit in the door, she could see another figure there, shorter than either of her parents. One of its eyes glowed eerie blue, the other concealed by pale hair.
She knew she was hidden. She knew she couldn't be seen. And yet, that eye seemed to look directly at her. It was all she could see, and she felt herself slowly reaching out...
The sound of a door opening creaked from the other side of the house, and the short figure dissolved into a cloud of eerie blue butterflies, which began to fly directly for Yomi's hiding spot.
Gasping for breath, she shot up from bed, hair matted to her neck and forehead with sweat. Her knuckles were white, grasping at sheets. Panicked, she looked around, but saw no traces of the bloody remains of her parents. "Just.. a dream."
Still shaking, Yomi slowly reached for her phone and saw the date. January 1. "...first dream of the year."
She couldn't close her eyes. Nervously, she flipped her phone open and...hesitated. It was late, but...
"...I don't want to be alone."
As her fingers finally find the right buttons, a small blue butterfly flaps its wings, fluttering away from her windowsill and into the night.