Surviving an attack from world eaters was the last thing you had ever expected to do, but now you wished you hadn't. You were allowed to live, with one condition.

Now sat in a world eaters lap, the drool from his deranged man sticking your hair, you wished you hadn't lived. His grip was firm on you, keeping your little body in place as his hands stroked through your hair.

“...pretty…”

He said, his voice gritted like sand paper.