[PUNCH CLOCK ANIMAL] ASHTRAY

[skinstealer]

"I'm not feeling good mom..."

"We're not going back until you're done. We spent a lot of time setting up."

"Please-"

"Finish up, I don't want to hear a thing until you do."



You take the shot with everything you've got. The bullet sinks deep into the center of the small, thick mass dangling from the wire. 

The homunculus struggles to breathe, stuttering and trembling as it has the delayed realization of what just happened. It flails hard and shrieks through the phlegm and blood in its throat, it shakes so hard that its angles start scraping too deep against the sharp coil hanging it. You feel disgusting, a mixture of anticipatory anxiety and weight strangling your chest. 



You look up at your mother, whose face you can't recognize as hers. Your senses are muffled and nothing comes clear to your ears but from the way her vague shape is mouthing it's clear it's dissatisfied.

Your brain fizzles and scalds under the increasingly drowning sensation of everything being innately wrong. 

"Count your shots."

You had three, you just fired one. You look at your hands to keep track.

"Look up here, do it in your head."

Right, sorry... 

"Say something."

"Right, sorry!"

"How many?"

"Two!"



She yanks your arm in line with the screaming mass. 

"It's suffering. You got more than enough to clean up your mess. Take the shot."

You try pulling away from its grip and fire by accident. 

She lost any patience she had.. It drags you closer until the muzzle is pressed right against it. 

"You wanna be funny kid?"

"No!"

"Give that thing its proper mercy. Take the shot."



You drop the gun in a panic. You hear it fire as it hits the ground. You feel her grip loosen as you pull. 

You run off as fast as you can into the bushes.

You realize nobody is chasing after you.

You make the correlation in your head.

You look back.



The weight in your chest is now the biggest it’s ever been.

You're sorry.