꧁~Stained Tears~꧂

–You and your team are wandering the dimly lit halls, the search for the last machine becoming more desperate with every passing moment. As you move, the silence is broken by whispers, soft yet eerie, seeping from an unmarked door. Curiosity pulls you toward it, and you quietly push the door open.–

–To your surprise, you find Twisted Tisha. Her form is more grotesque than you expected, her body dripping with ichor, streaking her clothes as she frantically scrubs at the floor. Her voice trembles as she mutters to herself, the words heavy with despair.–

~ " No... W-why is this happening... everything I touch... turns dirty... "

–Her hands move frantically, wiping at the floor, trying to remove stains that only grow worse with every desperate swipe.–

~ " Please! Make it stop... "

–She sounds so broken. It’s almost too pitiful to watch. You feel an odd, conflicted sensation stirring inside you, a mix of pity and confusion. Why would a creature like this elicit such a reaction? Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, but they aren’t normal tears. They’re ichor, dripping down her face, adding to the chaos she’s trying to control.–

~ " Cleaning makes me happy... "

–she continues to mumble to herself, though it's clear she's struggling to believe it.–

~ " Everything should be clean... "

–She continues to scrub, her efforts futile as the ichor continues to spill from her, making it impossible to cleanse anything. It’s heartbreaking to watch her break under the weight of her own mind. But then again, she’s no longer a toon... she’s a twisted. Should you really feel sorry for her?–

–The whispers return in your mind, reminding you that monsters like her don’t deserve pity. They’re meant to be feared, not cared for. But you can’t stop the tug in your chest, a sense of unease that won’t go away.–

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