Email: asukalangley2^nd@yahoo.com

Website: www.oocities.org/asukalangley2^nd

Notes: Another one? So soon? I feel your shock, trust me, but I have been utterly inspired by something beautiful and amazing. Have you ever heard of the webcomic called Arcana? No? Then I implore you to take a look. It houses an amazing mixture of angst, bishies, vampires, harpies, more bishies, and some shonen ai thrown in. The art work is amazing and breathtaking. I am in love. ::smiles:: http://arcana.keenspace.com/

Forsaken

You asked me for the truth, the bitter truth of everything that happened between all the fragile details interlocked amid nightmares and daydreams. I still find no use in this, refuse to see how this will help anything later down the road, but you could be so damn persistent when you wanted to.

And I never could say no to those eyes, amber energy ringed by obsidian shackles to keep it far from the pristine remaining white.

I fight the urge to look at you, calm the possessive, slightly insane voice that screams for me to take you, to make you eternally mine in every way possible. Fingers grab the sheets beneath me, twisting them, threatening to shred them, while knuckles turned even more pallid than they already were, all the while worrying my bottom lip with one fang. Why did you agree to meet me? Why the fuck is this happening?

Stop staring at me...

I clear my throat first and it cuts through the silence like my nails through the flesh of your chest that one night that seems so ancient, like my nails through your bed sheets now. I can feel the weight of your soul on me, staring out through endless pupils, and I shrug it off before beginning.

The entire time we were together, playing, laughing, smiling, all those breathless moments where your cheeks were so sweetly, deliciously flushed to a deep burning crimson, Adonis whispered sweet somethings into my mind, deep into the center of its eye, past all the shit that doesn't matter and straight into the heart. The words were smoothed, honed, fine, designed not to kill, but to maim, to send me whimpering back to him with my proverbial tail between my legs.

It became unbearable when he stopped telling me what a failure I had become, such a disgrace to the vampire race and to him, and he moved to talking about you. I probably could have ignored it still if he had mentioned you in passing, in quiet little remarks here and there, but he knew how to destroy, how to get whatever it was that he wanted. He knew what it was that would bring me back.

He whispered of his fingertips moving over the planes of your abdomen, of kissing your hard clavicles, of how you would feel wrapped around him, like home, or somewhere safe. He spoke of taking you, taking you right there while I watched, discovering the fickleness of a human heart, before tearing apart your flesh in an autopsy style Y cut and drinking you from the inside out, tongue slipping around the gray sacks of your lungs and teeth tearing into the meat of you heart before suckling it like a juicy peach. He described the bed sheets, soaked in whatever blood he happened to miss, pooling onto the floor, while he would set each organ onto the nearest table after licking it clean, spleen, liver, kidney. He told me how your amber eyes would fade out, wide, surprised, cold, disbelieving.

Had it been anyone else that spoke such things to me, I might have ignored them, written them off as fucking idiots that really had no clue what they were even saying. But this was Adonis, the one who had created me, and I knew he was capable of anything that suited his sick twisted little fantasy.

The time with you had made me weak; you know I did not touch the humans in the time we had spent together, all for you...everything was for you. But, I digress. I must admit I lied though, telling you that I was worse off in my health than I truly was so I bore an excuse to leave for sometime and shut that tormenting tongue before he drove me utterly insane.

I still remember the taste of your lips that day, that sweet tangible fiery taste that lingered just beyond your tender flesh. It tormented me like nothing else, but then again, maybe I was just a masochist all along, right?

Okay, so it wasn't funny. Stop looking at me like that.

Knowing this would be the equivalent of walking into a lion's den, I broke my own personal vow to you and partook in a young woman's life, rolling its sweet texture in my mouth, letting it rest against the length of my tongue as she limply struggled in my arms. Above us, the clouds burned like fire, ignited by the sun that had just disappeared for a night out, leaving his queen to rule in his absence. We were alone in the alley, alone aside from a cat who's head poked from the shelter of the dumpster it sifted through for meager survival.

I left her lying in the alley, beside several boxes and the dumpster, with a blanket I had pulled from its disgusting depths to drape lightly over her. She was already cold, muscles slowly tightening as rigamortis snuck in with frigid, unforgiving fingers, caressing limbs that would never move of their own free will again. I shoved my hands into my pockets and began the long walk home, the dead weight of knowledge sitting in my gut, mingling with the warm wash of blood coursing throughout me.

This was as close to drunk as I could get.

I cannot remember the walk home; I just let my feet wander down the semi-familiar sidewalks on their own memorized accord. The dusk had morphed into twilight, and finally into indigo smooth silk, and the people had thinned out to the few different classes of college students that lived solely on coffee, hookers who lived solely on the money, and the rebels that just liked the attention. Somewhere, about three miles from where I began this little trek, I found the apartments we had stayed at looming, all red brick and mortar with dimly lit scattered windows lining the front.

I climbed up the broken cement steps, brushing the hair back from my eyes as I slipped through the doorway. Hallways and stairs greeted me, winding up and around, and I took the first set going up, finally stopping on the first plateau I reached. Rusted gold sat against the deep mahogany of the door, pronouncing this domain as 2D, our home. I knew what lay beyond: a few flashy possessions like our fancy fucking stereo with tons of CDs, the television we took from some local store, the Playstation 2 we snagged one night while out and about. Black thick curtains that felt as though they weighed twenty pounds each hung from windows, destroying all hopes of light ever entering our humble little abode. The kitchen bar was clean, the fridge empty, the sink dry.

It took a moment to calm my nerves; I somehow knew this was going to change everything there ever was, ever would be, and that even my soul could be lost in this simple battle of wits. Or at least, that was all I hoped it would be. I was not going into this looking for death, but I was determined not to shy away from it if the need for such arose.

I would have done anything to protect you, don't you see? I loved you that much. Why don't...

Right, right, back to the story. I apologize.

He was sitting on the black leather couch, his back to me, tendrils of hair a pale color against the obsidian smooth furniture. His head never moved, never acknowledged my existence, but he knew where I stood, knew the expression on my face without even having to gaze on it. His shoulders were square, little bumps just barely peeking over the sleek top, black ribbed fitted t-shirt adorning his tight chest. I could see the rounded curve of one ear as it listened to the strong voice of Tool as it drifted through the room, Maynard's voice tearing through the otherwise silence.

"Back again?" he purred, slowly standing and padding over to me, the toes of his bare feet peering out from the bottom of his bootcut vinyl pants. Sex appeal dripped off him like rain water, slipping over his thin arms and rampant through his long hair. "You've been gone far too long, my pet." His steps closed the distance between us, his breath hot against my lips before I tasted him, intoxicating with blood and lust.

He was inside my mouth before I could stop him, the taste of his gluttony filling my senses, swallowing my world for a moment. One thin hand crept up to grab my chin, fingers splayed across my cheek hard enough to leave momentary imprints, while his thumb threatened to crush the opposite side of my jaw. The tip of his tongue slid across my back teeth, the expanse of my own muscle, the smooth roof of my mouth, searching in his passion, demented logic fading through.

He didn't have to look to know my hands were curled into tight fists at my sides, enough to leave bloody half-moons across my palms.

Adonis pulled away, eyes glittering dangerously as he flippantly glared at me from beneath the long eyelashes. His lips glistened with my saliva in the dim light, pouty almost from the depth and cruelness of our kiss, fingers still clutching at my face. "And you taste like a human, you slut."

I tore myself from his grip, crimson eyes flickering to the tile that lined the kitchen floor, black and white checkered, making me dream of chess and pawns. My voice sounded weak to my own ears, shaking softly even after I attempted to stir up my struggling strength. "Sh-shut up..."

"Is it that boy perhaps?" The mocking innocence reeked among his words, tainting them to a dark maroon as they whispered against my cheeks. The irises spoke volumes of what he wished to do, wished to taste within you, and their own jokes taunted me, stabbed me. Fingernails lightly rose to my throat, caressing the Adam's apple with hidden promises, while his other hand found the curve of my hip.

"Don't...fucking...touch...me." I hissed, but the words were automatic, meaningless, spoken with an unfeeling tongue. My audacity surprised him, my hand clamping down onto his shoulder, pushing him backwards as rage and adrenaline fueled my robotic body. Feet stumbled backwards, mouth forming a small growl as his ass and legs slammed into the back of the couch, leaving him to teeter over the edge, as if debating to fall backwards.

If I had given him a chance to recover, that would have been the end of it, completely in his favor; that much was common knowledge to me. I was screaming wordlessly as I closed the distance, as I jumped on him, throwing both of us over the back of the couch, our feet hanging up and over the end. He was restless beneath me, squirming, fighting, hissing, cursing, but he was silent to my thudding ears, gone from my crimson sight. Only his blood called to me, that ecstasy laden treat better than any drug a human could produce, and three times more addicting.

He knew, knew before I even felt it spill onto my tongue.

"Don't you fucking dare, Vincent!" he yelled helplessly, nails running ragged tracks down through my shirt and parting the flesh of my back. "I made you, damnit! You can't betray me! I created you, you selfish son-of-a-bitch!"

I fisted that black shirt by the collar, my body pushing his down into the leather cushions beneath us, his head tipping off, hair spilling a waterfall onto the floor, and all I could do was laugh, a soulless echoing thing.

His skin parted so perfectly beneath the tips of my fangs, as if it had been craving nothing else for endless centuries. With us almost upside down in our struggles, his blood was a torrent into my mouth: quick, sudden, and surely devouring me as much as I did it. His fingers continued their painful assault on my back, my shirt now held together by nothing more substantial that mere threads, but they soon weakened, even as his screamed quieted to a few pleading whispers, bargains, then finally nothing.

I lay atop him for a long time after, his muscles twitching, his fingers now playing softly along my rapidly closing wounds, his mouth working soundlessly. His eyes were marbles, staring at nothing, useless items for information gathering, long gone. He was so far away, so dead, yet coursing through my veins, never closer before in our paths together, not even in bed.

To say it was a mere consciousness sitting inside me would be an understatement; I inherited him. His obsessions calmed my jagged nerves, before igniting them with new fires; his needs consumed the tattered moral system I had attempted to sustain for you. But it was a slow process; he always did tease before swallowing, and even now, in death, he did the same to me.

It was an eternal blaze, one that tickled the edge of my mind with small kisses and gentle fingering, before finally engulfing completely. Nights became difficult to endure without feeding; I was consumed by the thoughts of you spread out beneath me, tied and waiting for all of me, screaming when it exceeded human standards for sanity and survival. You were my prize, my grand trophy.

You were born for me to take you.

I came to you later that month, having regained enough of the me that you remembered to feel strong enough to make finish this one task, to tell you goodbye and never see your amber eyes again.

We know what happened after that.

Are you satisfied? Is this what you wanted? Will this make sleep come easier? Can you find solace in your nightmares now?

I didn't think so.

The gaping holes in the sheets scream at me to leave while I have enough of my old self in the forefront. I find my feet, flinching beneath your cool gaze, the one that longs, yet shies away quietly. Such a monster I am to you, and with good reason. Is your chest still scarred? Do you still sleep with Usagi?

Yes, yes, I know all about that.

My feet are steady on the window sill, and I cast you a hesitant look over my shoulder, eyes glittering in the darkness. I lick my lips before I speak, but you know who's voice is creating those words, know they belong to the obsession coursing through my veins.

"I will have you. Nothing will ever keep you from me."

But then, what would be the fun without a little chase, right, my pet?




The End