Hearts (those things that go bump-bump and if that stops your one dead duck) are meant to be broken at least once in your life time but it's only the truly unlucky ones that get it beaten to a pulp by a large amount of people. And sadly I'm one of the few that's had just that done to them (along with both wounds on the inside and outside).

List of those with fists oh-so ready to hurt me even more:

Daddy – He's the very one that started the ball rolling on the 'let's all hurt Elle' theme. And he's the only one that truly had a hold on me and used my love for him against me. Plus making me crazy (and damaging my brain as a child) is a big reason to hate him.

Adam – Is full of so many firsts, first toy, first love and most of all first kiss. Placed on my lips the moment I could be called both 'woman' and 'sociopath'. And in the next minute when my bored little blues skipped on to the next toy he went and swooped him up, up and away from me. (and he got a lighting blast in the privates just for that, not just once)

Peter – He's number one in a series of pretty-boys that I have filled up my time and heart with over the years, all exactly the same pretty faces and lips but not the sharped blade he could have used to stab me in the back. And just like all the many others he wasn't dismissed by me he ran away breaking the one thing I had left, my heart.

Mohinder – Pretty-boy number 2, got bored really, really fast. That's all.

Spike – The one that has yet to make a dent on my heart (or taken a chuck out of it like some have tried) but when his time comes it might come as the worst one and my heart might break and never be put back together. Morbid, much?

-

Daddy says 'no' (in that voice of his that I never fail to follow like a good solider) and for the first time in my 'follow the rules with not one single question or be shunned/locked in my pink, pink room' life I smiled that crazy smile of mine (the one that sends chills) and say nothing but 'yes'.

The one that has his fangs stuck in my heart is the one that I should fear (along with each and every one of his kind) and not love or kiss, well, my father says this and all I think about is all the kissing we haven't done yet.

(and besides I can see his soul, bright and sparkly, smiling out at me with each forbidden kiss we share)

"Does it hurt?"

This is one of many questions I save to ask him each time we find ourselves doing our forbidden dance (which has a lot less steps then the one with Angel, besides the fact he can't dance) along with 'who's your favorite little blond?' and 'can I touch your fangs, blondie?'

"Pet, you should know the answer to that one, your own soul is shining right back at me, it may be a bit dusty (sprinkled in red and blue dust) but it's still there. Anyway it's doesn't bloody hurt until you do some killing that's why mine smarts like a bitch compared to yours, it may throb some but it will never be as bad as mine."

These days (as he keeps on saying 'aren't like the old ones at all') he's a little more sane then me but that person he turned into back then, when the soul was fresh in him, comes out every so often just to have a good laugh at the lost man he's slowly turned into.

(the one that I'm trying to save every day that we get together, which isn't many)

"Is that a good thing, baby?"

Just like all the other questions that he likes me to ask ('who do you hate the most?' 'The puff Angel, of course, you know that, love') is a dance we start right after the reunion kiss (/kisses) and only ends when our one blissful day a month is over and done with.

"It's the best thing, love, simply the best. And don't you forget it."

-

His eyes were always on me and my fingers (ones that in a rage could become bright blue, even more then a Mr. Slush-O) making sure I was being a good little girl, which is something I find is harder then I thought it would be, and he's one of the few people that can calm the beast in me.

(that as a child used to be a baby tiger but thanks to daddy dearest it now a grown-up, fangs and all)

But this story isn't anything like the beauty and the beast (which I still watch to this very day, everything childish is love) no, it could be called a horror story, tales of the two beauties that have beasts in their breasts and but of course it can be called a romance, a twisted one but still one.

And for the first time in the years of being Daddies little weapon (made all shiny, shining blond and blue, by horrible things), his little solider that did what she was forever told until she found love in someone that he did not approve of, but after all when has Bob approved of anything I've done?

(besides facing Sylar, and he wasn't even breathing to see that one)

Around that time it was worth all the unapproving looks, the extra locks to melt away, and the eyes of agents (which aren't long for this rotting world) following my every footstep.

"Ready to go, love? Leave this sodding place for greener pastures? Well, maybe not that green, after all no sun or your boy-toy is a crispy-critter. Not much fun to kiss that, now is it?"

(if anyone asked I could tell you the next steps his feet would take or what words he would delight the world with, just like I knew he would ask the one question I was ready to answer)

"I'm ready, Spike, lets get the hell out of this dump."

And just with those two words, I wouldn't have been able to answer months ago, my whole world tipped over and this time it was on the right side.

(filled with platinum blond vampires with sparkling souls rather then skin)