Oubiliette

As a distraction from the prowling beast's mounting agitation, he studied the raw reminder where his hand had been. Given the extent of his injuries, his body couldn't start the healing process. So he watched the crimson trickle down his skin, fading into the darkness. All he could see was stark white bones and ruddy muscle, but somehow he felt his palm, his fingers. A phantom sensation for an appendage forever lost to the stagnant liquid beneath. How many times over the years had he been the one to uncover flesh and bone? To violently expose that which should never have seen the light of day? Despite his waning strength, a cynical chuckle escaped his chest. Underneath it all, monsters and humans were all the same: vile, evil, corrupt. A mess of blood and organs. Nothing more.