Dream

You have no soul.

These words burned in the girl's memory. She sat silently in the corner on cold tile. Jet black eyes stared blankly into the broken face that lay across the room.

You have no soul.

The words echoed, dripped into the crevices of her emotional shell, parallel to the river escaping her flesh, the crevice in the skin that opened the door to her core, the crimson sanguine liguid passing between emptying veins.

You have no soul.

"I have no soul," spoke the silent voice as the flesh drooped, melting into an array of swirls, an oil painting disintegrating, forming an endless amount of grains of sand, then reforming as bits of the broken face, lying on the cold tile.

Staring.

Laughing.

I have no soul.