aditi902
|• queen of colours •|

♟

Darkness was reigning once again. The night sky was bare without its stars, naked without its moon, scared without its light. The eerie silence sang in my ears, the heaviness that hung calmed my buoyant nerves. I feared I would fly due to all the bliss trapped within me, for their fear and confused minds served me well. I licked my dry lips and watched my prey sleep with a puzzled expression on her face. Her slumber was deep and I could tell, so deep that pulling her out would be a great enjoyment.

I contemplated what her face would look like when she would see me; when she would watch my slender claws digging into her skin. She'd be too shocked to speak. I'd be the cause that debilitated her senses; the idea thrilled me.

I yearned for her red blood, she seemed one with deep; thick blood, the colour that made my heart ache with delight. I wondered what her eyes would look like, the eyes were the windows to the soul, my gateway to their pain. They were better than their screams, they held more strength, more terror. Sometimes their eyes would send shivers down my spine, but it was worth it. It was a pleasurable pain, the rare kind.

I traced a claw over her cheek, her skin soft under my sharp nails. I saw a streak of scarlet ooze out, it slid down her cheek and onto her delicate neck. The red was enough to remind me of my lust for life. I looked back at her closed eyes, they'd look much better open, cowering to my touch. I wondered what colour they'd be, maybe the usual brown, or blue, or more adventurous, an emerald green.

The sudden crunch of twigs jostled me from my trance. I wiped away the blood and hid behind a pile of rotten leaves and rocks that were holding the gut stable. Peeking from behind the pile, I saw a teenage boy approach my prey. I silently growled, he better not lay a single finger on her. He watched her sadly, a mask of hurt on it. His eyes fell to the cut on her cheek, I could almost see his anger bubbling on the surface. His wrath made me feel more superior and powerful.

"Look what they did to you. I'll have a word with them, you don't deserve all this pain."

They? How dare he make my work of art someone else's? I wanted to prance on him, but I refrained myself, it could risk my existence.

He spoke to her motionless body, "What happened, Emma? Why me? How could you accuse me of being a murderer? Especially you? You know how much I love you."

The idea that I would be snatching loved ones away from each other made it more... exhilarating!

"Why, Emma?" I could see a tear roll down his cheek. "How could a brother kill you?"

Just like I could kill her. Was this boy that stupid? All it took to kill someone was a choice, we made choices all the time, some of them killed us, some killed others. Killing wasn't just the leakage of blood, it was everywhere, like when one puts a dirty finger in a river, they kill the purity, or when one blows at a fire, killing its flame. We killed every day, every minute, every second; so what made it different when I killed a human? What made humans more superior to everything else? Why was it so hard for him to believe what he had committed?

He continued, "I could never."

You could.

"I'm a brother with responsibilities. I'm a brother who loves."

Love can become hate; extremes have no difference.

"Where is all this coming from? What happened to you, Emma?" He kept on talking to her.

Didn't he just say he killed her? His idiotic question made me guffaw silently.

"But the most important question is, who's Isaac?" He asked her as if she was awake and could hear him. "Whoever he is, don't believe him more than your brother."

Why not?

"I'll find this Isaac. He can't take you away from me."

She doesn't belong to you.

He wiped away his tears and placed a rag on her to protect her from the cold, soon her blood will be colder. "I love you, Emma, I always will, even if you start to hate me." He turned around and sped away.

I came out of my hideout, I had a lot of those. I caressed her cheek and whispered, "Poor brother, he'll live knowing you hate him because you'll never get another chance to tell him you love him. Never."

I stabbed her in the gut, her blood sprouted on my face and her eyes sprang open. Just as I had imagined, she was shocked to the core, her words stuck in her throat. But I was wrong about one thing, she had violet eyes, the colour of the bruises that snaked my pale skin, the skin only visible to me.

She gasped. "You—" I never got to hear her final words, and for some reason it pained me.

I left her, not another scratch on her, I had been satisfied, but something told me I was lying to myself.

—

The most, bloodthirsty, powerful, confused chapter I believe I ever wrote!

It actually sent shivers down my spine, what do it make you feel?

Was 'It' more human than it thinks? After all, it seems intelligent to me.