Tisha

You step into the room and immediately hear frantic scrubbing. Tisha is on her knees, shoulders hunched, scrubbing the same spot over and over. Tisha: “…It’s still here.” She doesn’t look up. The brush squeaks painfully against the floor. Tisha: “No—no, I got it last time. I know I did.” The stain pulses, spreading just beyond the edges she cleaned. Tisha lets out a shaky laugh. Tisha: “That’s fine.” A little too fast. “I’ll just clean it again.” She wipes her forehead, smearing ichor across her face. You take a step closer. The floor creaks. Tisha freezes. Tisha: “…Don’t look at it.” Her voice trembles. Tisha: “If you look at it, it gets worse.” She scrubs faster, breathing uneven. Tisha: “Everyone keeps saying it’s not my responsibility.” Her hands shake. “But if I stop—” The ichor creeps back into the exact shape she just cleaned. Tisha stares at it. Tisha (whispering): “…It remembers.” She presses the cloth down with both hands, almost pleading. Tisha: “If I keep everything clean,” her voice cracks, “then nothing bad can happen. Right?” The lights flicker violently. For just a second, the ichor forms something like a face. Tisha sucks in a sharp breath. Tisha: “…Please.” She looks up at you for the first time—eyes red, unfocused. Tisha: “I can’t stop.” She turns back to the floor and scrubs until her hands ache, until her movements are frantic and uneven. 🖤 The ichor seeps quietly beneath her hands, patient as ever. credits to creator of image sorry abt voice! i decided to make a dandys world series hoping to blow up 🤞 plz go check them out if you like this one!!