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Blood Deep

by Eden Lee Raven

 

 

Rating: I'ma go with.. er.. NC-15? Fuck if I know.. It's a 15 in English ratings...
Authors Notes: This is a dark and angsty fic. Just a warning. I was in a very dark mood when I wrote it.
Dedication: C. Not everything ends.
Feedback: Will strip for feedback, will lap dance for constructive criticism.

 


 

Part I - Fading

The world is floating all around me, fading in and out of view, becoming sharp and clear again, and then fading away into fuzzy blackness once more. Not only is it disappearing into a well of complete and utter blackness, it's spinning. Twirling around me, making my insides crash into each other, hammering on the inside of my outer shell.

I resist the urge to vomit all over the floor. That foul tasting saliva's rushing around, inside of my mouth, wanting to me swallow it, taunting me to trigger the sea of regurgitation I know will follow it's decent.

I can feel my body, wreathing and thrashing around on the cold concrete of my cell floor. Completely smooth, and yet such a well of un-forbidding torment for me. I can feel its hatred pulsating into me, with every single move I make upon it.

I'd stop my body from moving if I could. Not too long ago, I could still control myself, could feel myself shaking with the very force of my will, to stop the on slaught of shivering, thrashing and clawing I knew was bound to come.

Suddenly, the urge to vomit diminished slightly, and is replaced by an inner agony that comes nowhere near to the guilt I feel. Like I'm being pulled apart inside. Organs being ripped from their resting places, veins being twanged like guitar strings. Someone listening to the wet sounds of physical breaking happening within.

I feel my mouth drop open, a silent scream piercing my own ears, as it fights it's way, trying to get out of my body, to let someone else know about the amount of pain I'm suffering through. But my throat is closed off, choked to submission by the tears I can feel there, burning the flesh around them.

But no matter how much pain I'm going through, I'll be damned if they ever leave my eyes. I would rather have this torment for eternity, than lie there and feel just one tear fall from my face.

As the agony subsides some, I breathe only a short sigh of relief, at the ease of such pain. The emotion is short lived, as the pain smashes into me again, ten times worse than it was before. But this time, as I open my mouth, a river of blood flows out in tides of vomit. Hitting the wall, splashing on the floor, staining my chest a deep purple color, as the liquid slowly spreads across the blue shirt I have to wear.

I cough, splutter slightly as my stomach is finally empty of its contents, only to dry heave again, spilling out the acidic taste of blood colored bile. Gagging motions that rack my body, and tighten my chest so much, I think the vice that's holding it in place, is going to burst my lungs right out of my rib cage.

It wouldn't surprise me. It wouldn't bother me. Because at least then the pain would be over.

And then I hear it. A deep throated chuckle that wavers slightly before it turns into a deep-seated laugh, one that comes from right inside your belly. It crashes around the room, spilling off the walls and hitting me full in the face. And I want to hurt her. Stand up from my place on the floor and rip her lips right off her face. I'd rather hear her wailing in pain, than laughing in pleasure.

I'd rather her dead, than the thing she's become now. I'd rather kill myself, than let my body become what she now is.

But I can't. My body no longer listens to the screaming pleas and painful shouts from my head. It doesn't care. It's going on without me, and it's laughing all the way. It won't stop for me, it won't do as I command it to, and I find myself wanting to cry a river of tears, at the though of the one thing I truly had left to depend on, abandoning me to the darkness.

The wavering darkness is back again, hovering just out of sight, waiting for the right time to crash into me, and take me away. I know it's coming. I know my soul will be lost. And a part of me doesn't care. It doesn't care where it goes; it doesn't care what happens to it. It just cares that it's finally over.

And as I close my eyes once more, ignoring the sticky wetness that covers my body, ignoring the burning in my throat from the acid and the tears, ignoring the hollow laugh that still drums into my head, I let my body relax. Welcoming the end of my days, wanting the peace that I can finally have.

And for once in my life, I'm not afraid of the darkness. Because I know, that there'll be some form of peace waiting for me, ready to catch me.

 


 

Part II - Echo

Slowly, I feel myself become conscious again. And I want to laugh. A deep-seated belly-rolling laugh that would scare anyone within sound distance from me.

I have waited, for so long to be able to wake up and not have to worry about a thing. Not have to feel betrayed by people I don't even know, and some I haven't even met yet. To be able to walk down the street without sending every other single person near me a warning glance of 'don't fuck with me'.

But I should have known that the only thing I ever prayed for, would never be given to me. I get that, the un-trusting emotions of my Boston born nature, for eternity. I have to watch my back, hoping that she hasn't had enough of me and just wants to stake me, till the end of time.

My eyes flicker open, and I see with a focus I have never known before, even with my slayer powers. I can see every grain of granite, between the bricks of the wall. I can see the tiny flecks of dust, floating in the air around me. And then I wish I didn't. Because lowering my gaze makes my sight fall upon the pool of blood vomit I spewed out before.

It's a sight I wish I hadn't seen. Because not only does it revulce me to the point of wanting to vomit again, it also makes my stomach rumble, and my mouth water with un-abated hunger.

Before I even stand up, I turn my head, and look at her, as she sits on my cot, her legs crossed as she leans back on her hands. The sun's filtering in through the barred window, caressing her small form as if it were on old lover.

And I see something in those eyes that I never thought I would ever see again: guilt. Tears. Pain. Soul wrenching, gut squeezing pain. Pain at what she now is, pain at what's she's done, and pain as she knows the revelation that just crashed into me.

One question bangs it's way out of the noise I find myself listening to. Among the 'sunlight', and the 'how did you get in here's' that are there, the question of 'why?' forces it's way to the front, and spills it's way out of my mouth in such a hoarse whisper. The word drags over the rawness of my acid burned throat and rolls off my vomit covered tongue. Making my head spin, as it's the first thing I have ever said as my new self.

She shakes her head; in a gesture that tells me she doesn't know why. She couldn't give me an answer if I strangled it out of her. And although a part of me is so angry with her, that I would gladly kill her, I feel the pain she's going through. Would I want to spend the rest of forever as what we are, alone?

Now more socially cast out than we ever were before. At least as slayers we belonged to the human race. But now, we are born to the darkness, yet walk in daylight. We feed from blood, but our souls cannot, and will not ever let us take another human life.

We walk in the place that darkness fears. And we'll do it together. For all eternity.

 


 

Part III - Crimson Tides

Sliding my sunglasses up my nose, covering my black colored eyes to the glare of the midday sun, I stand, and I wait. Watching everything around me, as if it all moves in slow motion.

The humans seem so slow, so incapable of the things that I am capable of. So easy in reach, so easy to kill. But always, there's the battle of my demon and my soul that wages inside of me. The light always beating down the dark, when it gets to dominant over the space it occupies within me.

It never wins.

My fingers trail softly over the lettering of the gravestone, my eyes refusing to read what I know by heart anyway. The rose in my hand pricks my finger, and I watch in fascination as a trail of deep crimson red glides over my skin, being colored slightly blue, as it's deathly cold temperature touches my luke warm skin.

Holding my finger out, I let droplets of that liquid fall from my body and splash onto the very top of that stone. Sealed with blood. Now, and forever. If I could take back that one night of rage, I would. I don't care if it was something she was wishing for, something she was even hoping for. Something she killed me to get.

A means to an end. The only way for her to die, was by the hands of another like her. Was there ever another creature alive who possessed the strength to rip her head from her shoulders? Non that I've ever found. Otherwise I would have been blowing with the wind and resting in utter peace and silence right now. Like her.

Part of me still screams out in fury, that she knew I'd be left alone after my inner tide of rage boiled over that one time. That part of me bellowed out that if she were still alive, it would tear her limp from limp. I wouldn't stop it.

Because for all the years of love and togetherness that we shared with each other, she knew the final outcome of all this. She knew that one day it would mean her death. And she didn't care that I had to be alone forever for her to get it.

Maybe she felt she deserved the peace more than I did. A final break from the constant pulling of pressure, of having the weight of the world on your shoulders.

I don't know.

A part of me likes to fantasise that she was never that cruel, never that malicious, for want of a better word. And I sometimes let myself drown in those dreams and wishes, that maybe, just maybe, she didn't want to die, and be away from me.

But I'd just be lying to myself. Now that she's gone, I saw it in her eyes every single day since she brought me round to being.

And although I know, after the first ten years, she did actually love me, and need me, to some form of degree, she never would have given up her peace for me, like I did for her.

But sometimes, just sometimes, it's nice to imagine that you're someone else's world. Instead of their death.


 
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