A mass of glassy, chitinous wings. Long, hairy, segmented legs. A detached proboscis, blood leaking from the horrid tube.

Blood. That's right, there was blood too. Coming out of the burst thorax and spilling out onto the deathly pale floor of skin. Nobody mourned for the death of this thing; this disgusting little parasite that flew from human to human spreading only death and pestilence.

Anya flicked the wretched corpse off of her cold, demonic skin. It landed near the other corpses, human ones. Anya was a parasite too, but she was above the lowly insects. She was superior to the bugs and the humans alike.

But she would end up like the mosquito none the less. Unmourned in death, and unloved in life. She felt cold.

"Papa, you still love your little girl right? You'll still embrace me? Mama's been gone so long, but you're still here. You'll always be here."

Anya knelt down and hugged the armored corpse tight. Like the others, he was also pale and drained of life. James's face was permanently contorted into an expression of pain and betrayal.

"Papa? Why are you so cold? I didn't take too much, did I? Papa?"

Anya began shivering, and tears crept down her cheek. Cold tears.

"...Papa?"

Anya woke up in a panic, and scrambled around in the bed. She looked around frantically until her eyes found her papa, and she watched him fearfully for a few seconds. He was alive, right? Of course he was alive. He was the toughest. He would never die. He would never leave her.

He would never leave her, right? Even though she thought the same about her mama. Anya began bawling uncontrollably and desperately tried to shake her papa awake.