MPC: 49C, No more. (Mature content warning)

"I've had it, I can't live like this anymore." Those words sullenly came whispering out from Chie's dried lips. It had been two months since the invasion, and she had never felt or looked worse in her life. Standing over the hot oven, she barely kept herself standing by leaning her arms upon each of the chipped, cracked, and stained counter tops. Her clothing was tattered, her blouse had lost it's sleeves, her stockings had rips and tears all over. Along her skin was dried blood, scars, and bruises, her eyes drifted downward to the old Digivice on the rusty chain hanging from her neck, a tear would've shed if she had the liquids to spare. Two months ago, when the invasion started, not all Digimon agreed with the invasion, Do, her former Digimon partner, was one of them. He foolhardily challenged a Metal Greymon to defend a bunch of humans, with a single swipe, Do had died, leaving behind the Digivice he always carried. It was a week later Chie managed to wiggle her way to protection by selling out, offering to bake for the Digimon, unfortunately her father, who didn't agree with her choice, was vaporized on the spot.

At first, Chie could keep up with the demand, albeit trouble getting ingredients was starting to present itself. So when the cookies got smaller to meet demand, she received backlash, backlash being a scratch. When she tried to fight back, she got bit in the leg. That was when they sent an in-training level, after that, they sent a Dogmon instead, he was very impatient. If Chie was even two seconds late, he would cut her. At some point she gave up on cleaning herself up, and changing clothes after almost everything got destroyed so far. Barely scraping by, barely keeping them pleased, she found things got difficult a month ago. When the destruction had cut off the water. Dogmon was understanding, but after he took out his frustration out on her shoulder. Chie prayed that she would die from an infection. However she lived, barely, now she had a deal with the Digimon, they'd send her a sum of water, but between baking and sustaining herself, she barely had enough food, now worrying about water. It was around two weeks ago that she began to slow down, her weight loss was now clear as her skin had dried up. Her hands trembled constantly, through sleep and waking moments, which now were the same. Chie had dragged blankets down and left them in a pile in the working kitchen, it had dawned on her how long she spent in this room, she hadn't given thought to anything but baking for so long, she slowly regained awareness but shrugged it off. A week ago, she once looked out the window, she saw the light, to conserve power she worked in the day, so only she needed an oven. When the weather got cold, there were times where she curled up against the oven. Her eyes were bloodshot red, she never gave much thought to how often she slept.

Now, present day, while she recalled the past two months, she didn't pay attention to time. The clock on her oven had broken in the last time Dogmon let out his fury. Smelling the smoke come from the stove, she sluggishly put on her oven mitts and removed the burned cookies from the oven, placing them on the stove top. Looking out the window, she saw the Sun on the verge of setting, it was too late. Dogmon would arrive soon, and she would not be close to having something ready that she can get off with just a scratch, or perhaps a bite. At this point, the thought couldn't make her shudder anymore. She didn't care, this was no way to live, what she thought was a deal to save her own life, turned into her own prison, and hell. She slowly stumbled her way over to the end of the right counter, using her hands to support her body. Grabbing the opened bottle of water, picked it up before leaning into the corner between the counter and the one adjacent. Turning her body as she slid down to the floor, struggling to open the water bottle as she couldn't steady her fingers to grip the cap. After seven failed attempts, each time slowly twisting the cap, the eighth attempt managed to succeed. Slowly she drank the last half of the liter sized bottle. This had been the most she had drank since the water got cut, and it gave her some shred of comfort, but it was a fleeting feeling twice as quick as it came, as reality dawned on her.

Dogmon would be back soon, and if she survived, no, it was no longer an option. She has almost baked herself to death, looking to the window, the lights straying through were fading by the minute. Sunset was on the verge over the land, Chie wondered what it looked like out there, for the first time in months, she thought about how the outside world was doing. Looking over to the side she found her purse laying next to the blankets on the other side of the room. Slowly crawling over to the other side of the room, she could feel her energy fading, but if there was a clear thing she could tell right now, it wasn't going to be enough. As she made it to her purse, she rummaged through it with one hand, and withdrew her custom made kitchen knife. She wondered why she waited all this time to grab it, perhaps it was shame, shame that she sold herself out. Rolling onto her back with her knife in hand, she wondered on last words, in her final moment.

Taking inspiration from the works of a famous playwright, she couldn't think of better words as she lifted the knife above her chest, facing herself, holding it with both hands, albeit trembling. "O happy dagger, this is thy sheath. There rust and let me die." Closing her eyes, she thrust her knife into her flesh, feeling herself fade into the darkness, finally, at peace.