Tokyo Ghoul: The Loss

by Ryanneilc

Tokyo Ghoul: The Loss is a tale of tragedy and loss of humanity.

1. Prologue

Prologue

Dante was awoken by the sudden force of weight thrown onto him. He yelped as he opened his eyes suddenly, and looked down at the figure who lay atop him in his jungle of sheets and pillows that he called his bed.

"Did I hurt the poor baby?" said the figure, with a voice Dante could not bring himself to forget, even if he wanted to.

"Marissa" whispered Dante, either from loss of air or being half asleep, "I thought we had agreed no "wrestling" first thing in the morning?"

"Keep dreaming, il mio amore" she said with a smirk and planted a quick, loving kiss on the tip of his nose. "Oh yeah, also, it's actually 1 in the afternoon. So, technically it isn't first thing in the morning." She flashed a smile that shined with victory, and rested her head on Dante's chest. Dante noticed that her hair was slightly damp, and smelled of his favorite scent, vanilla. He inquired that she must have just gotten out of the shower, so she must have woken up not long ago as well.

"Don't you seem eager to tackle the day?" Dante said with a teasing tone and smiled at her as she looked up with the sound of his voice.

She smiled. "Well, it isn't every day that I get to be with my fiancé for an entire week. My family will still be gone for the rest of the day, so I want to spend my last day of vacation with my favorite grump."

At that, Dante scowled and thumped her forehead playfully. "You would be grouchy if I jumped on you, wet and half dressed, as well, principessa."

"No, just a little teased is all" she said and squeezed his left cheek. "Now get yourself up and ready, we have a lot on our agenda today. I want to make this last day with you count." She lifted herself up off of him slightly, but was pulled back down almost immediately when he wrapped his arms around her back. "Can we not just enjoy each other in this bed of mine? Personally, I have no objections to that idea. Plus, I wouldn't have to spend all my hard earned money at one time."

She pinched his chest and laughed at him, "Hard earned money? Oh please, as if being paid to be beautiful and sing like an angel can be considered hard work." Dante lifted her up off of him carefully, and placed her next to him "Well, someone has to play the role of an angel in this hellhole. However, luckily enough for you, I can be an angel and a demon. In certain circumstances." He said as he rubbed his nose against hers and brushed a swift kiss on her lips. Much to his dismay though, Dante knew he really did have to get out of bed. So, he was forced to cut his kiss short, and leapt out of bed and headed for the shower.

"I would invite you to join me, but it seems like you already beat me to it" He said and stuck his tongue out at her and winked.

"Oh, well, being twice as clean never hurt anyone." She said with a smirk.

"You know, I really do believe I prefer the Basilca di San Zeno Maggiore over the Duomo of Verona" Marissa said as she and Dante walked down a surprisingly underpopulated street in Verona. "Something about how elegant all the artwork, and architecture is just makes my heart skip beats."

Dante gazed at her curiously. "Well, you and the Basilca do have elegance in common, il mio amore." He said and lifted their interlaced hands up to kiss the back of her ring-finger, where the ring he had saved up six months of tips to buy for her was. At that, she could not help but smile and said "You must really be trying to get brownie points today, Dante. Did someone spike your wine after the shower to make you extra sweet? Because you're normally only so sweet when you're drunk out of your mind."

"Or maybe I just wanted to make sure this day was as special for you as possible?" He said to her in a pretend slurred voice. "Who knows when the next time I'll get to be with you for this long will be? I want to just make every moment count, is all."

The wind had suddenly picked up a bit, and blew Marissa's beige sundress and her long, dark brown hair back, somehow still elegantly. Dante had always thought she was beautiful, but something about her today made her seem especially so. Her dark brown eyes that could hypnotize a man of weaker resolve. Her long, flowing, and soft like silk hair that made Dante ache to run his fingers through it. Her skin that had been kissed so much by the sun that it was only second to Dante himself. However, the one feature about her that always melted Dante's heart and brought him back to square one, was her smile. Dante could just not bring himself to be upset or angry with her after she flashed that smile at him. She had perfect lips, and her teeth seemed like pearls with how white and well taken care of they were.

When he truly sat and stared at Marissa, Dante was at odds at how much she was settling to be with him. Not only was she beautiful in every way, but she was also so kind and gentle. She was always so in touch with herself, and showed sympathy to anyone who came and asked it of her. Whereas Dante could hardly handle his own emotions, and was naturally skeptical of everyone and rather a bit of a pessimist. However, being around Marissa made him feel like he had a purpose. She made him feel like he had a reason for being alive and where he was at all times.

He remembered the night he had first met her. He was playing at a local bar, singing songs he had written about nothing and everything at the same time, and through everyone in the crowd, he saw her watching him from a seat at the bar. He temporarily lost his focus and slurred out something he hadn't meant to say, but regained his composure. He had flushed with embarrassment as he saw her giggling to herself. He walked up to her after the show and begged for her to go out with him on a date, and after thirty minutes of skeptical arguing, she agreed. Within three months, they had seen each other every day, and had become serious about each other. 3 years later, Dante had decided to propose to her, as her knew he wanted nothing more than to be by her side always, and she too wanted nothing else.

"Dante?" Marissa said, and Dante snapped back to attention. "Are you feeling sick?"

"Oh, no, I was just… thinking is all, Marissa." Dante said, scratching the back of his somewhat shaggy dark hair.

"You know, you musicians really do have a bad habit of losing yourselves in thought." She said and squeezed his hand lightly, further cementing Dante in the present.

He looked at her and smiled. "I was just thinking about how we met, and wondering how you've been able to put up with me this long, principessa."

She grinned from ear to ear, "Maybe I should just come around less to keep you this sweet all the time?" Dante made a pouting face at that, and pinched her arm. "Keep dreaming, il mio amore" he said mockingly, and kissed her tenderly and lovingly. However, their kiss was interrupted again by a stranger bumping into Dante.

"Oh, I'm so sorry guys." Said a middle aged looking man who had his hair pulled back into short ponytail. The man was at least six feet tall and was very broad-shouldered. He wore a white suit with a black shirt under it, and had what appeared to be a knapsack on his back. If not for his suit, Dante would've imagined him to be homeless. "I was totally in my own world back there. I hope you both have wonderful rest of your day!"

Dante nodded at him as he walked away, and averted his eyes back to Marissa. "You know, we really do seem to have the worst luck today." He said with a sigh. She laughed and pinched his nose.

"Maybe we should just grab something to eat and head back home? It's getting a bit late, and meeting strangers makes me hungry."

Dante rolled his eyes playfully. "You're always hungry, you turd."

"Is that a problem?" Marissa asked with narrowed eyes. Dante chuckled at her angry face, and put his arm over her shoulder as they walked down the street.

"Please tell me what exactly you thought would be romantic about taking me to a bar, Dante?" Marissa asked as she cut into a freshly made salad. Dante looked at her with humor in his eyes and asked "Do you not remember this place, Marissa?" She shook her head, and Dante pointed to the ring on her finger. "There's your hint, il mio amore."

Marissa's mind went back to that night three months ago, and suddenly remembered how the events transpired, as if they had happened only yesterday. Dante had been playing a set, as always on every other weekend and it all seemed like any normal night to her. It did, until Dante beckoned for her to come on stage with him to sing a song for her personally. He had picked the most cliché of songs, but it was rather a dirty pleasure of hers to see the man she loved more than the world sing about something as complex as his feelings for her. He sang he crafted specifically for her, and got on his knees during the chorus and proposed to her in front of all twenty members of his audience. He had trapped her into saying yes, the devious angel he was. Not that she would've turned him down anyways.

"Dante, are you sure about getting married on September eleventh?"

Dante looked up from his plate of a perfectly cooked steak and gave her a curious look. "Having second thoughts? I think it's a little late to want to keep enjoying the single life, Marissa."

"No. No, no, no, no. Not in a million years. I just think it's a little weird we're going to be celebrating a marriage while all the Americans are thinking about something so tragic." She laughed. "I just think it's the worst kind of irony."

"Believe it or not, I actually had family who died in that plane crash…or so my father told me." Dante said calmly. "So I kind of wanted to have something happy to happen that day to distract me from moping all day. And I couldn't think of anything that makes me happier than being with you, Marissa." She smiled and tussled his hair a small bit, not exactly having much of an impact on it. "Oh shut up, you big sap."

As they finished both of their plates and wine, Dante thought he had caught a glimpse of the man that had bumped into him earlier. He dismissed the thought almost instantly, as he thought he shouldn't be dwelling on it while the love of his life was with him. Sadness enveloped him as he was reminded that they would only be together for another few hours. They had been in the bar for what felt like only thirty minutes, but it was actually already nine in the afternoon. As the waiter came, Dante paid for their food, against Marissa's arguing, and they headed out to go back to Dante's apartment, to enjoy their last night together in solitude finally.

As they were walking, Marissa stopped in front of an alley and looked Dante in the eyes shaking slightly. Dante already knew what she was going to say.

"Dante… do we have to go through there?" Marissa knew there was no other way to get back to his apartment, but there had been a break in the amount of abductions from ghouls lately. In Verona, there was allegedly a single ghoul who was hunting down random people at night, and abducting them, only to hang their bodies in the middle of a different public area with each abduction. The bodies had been cut in many different places, with what could have been caused by a multitude of things, from a knife or some other sharp object. Some had all of their bones broken, but the worst that had been seen yet was a pair of bodies, a mother and child, who had been burned from the neck down and had had their ears, tongue, and eyes cut out. However, each body did have one thing in common. They all had a single "M" carved over their right wrist. The Italian CCG had yet to decipher any sort of meaning behind the placement or letter choice, but they had come to the conclusion to just call him "Il Messaggero di Morte".

The Messenger of Death.

Dante looked at Marissa with sympathetic eyes, and tried to hide his shared paranoia, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry so much, as if your knight in shining armor would let any old Ghoul attack you." He kissed her hand and placed his forehead on hers. "I am here to protect you Marissa, and I will never let anyone or anything ever harm you. If they hurt you, then they hurt me as well. Our marriage isn't official until September, but you have been a part of me since I first laid eyes on you. You are my heart, soul, the light in my eyes, and you are the one person who makes me feel like I have a purpose here on this earth. I was born to be with you, and it is my role to protect you. I wouldn't want it any other way." He leaned his jaw over and kissed her for what felt like an eternity. "I love you, Marissa di Angelo."

Marissa smiled a smile that sent shivers down Dante's back. "And I love you, my noble knight, Dante di Angelo." She reached up behind her neck, and grabbed the necklace she always wore, and took it off. It was a bronze necklace that had an anchor pendent at the end. Marissa always told Dante she wore it keep her head on her shoulders, and he always thought it was the cutest form of cliché, but it suited her perfectly.

"I want you to have this, to remember me by, and to keep that confident head of yours out of the clouds." She said as she reached over Dante's head and placed it around his neck. The actual necklace part of it was quite long for necklace standards, and hung down past the middle of his chest. He almost felt like refusing to take it, but he knew the sentiment behind the gesture and couldn't bring himself to refuse. Her generosity was another thing that had drawn Dante to her, and it made her even harder to resist.

"A gift from my princess? As if I could ever refuse." He smiled and rubbed the anchor with his free hand. "I'll just have to touch this when I'm alone at night and missing you. It'll be like a small piece of you is still with me." At that, she kissed him again and rubbed a hand through his tussled hair.

"Not only that." She pointed a gentle and thin finger to his chest. "I'll always be in your heart as well. Distance may come between us, but we will forever be together in our hearts and memories. Even in death, we will live on in each other." Dante pulled her close, and embraced her tightly.

"You know just the right clichés to say. But let's not think about dying right now. Our lives have yet to truly begin, principessa."

As they walked down the alley, Dante could not help but begin to feel a bit drowsy. He stumbled a bit, but Marissa was there to catch him. He looked at her sheepishly. "My knight in shining armor." She rolled her eyes, and just assumed Dante had had a little too much wine tonight. A few blocks later however, Marissa felt the same sort of dizziness, and they both fell immediately to the ground. Marissa was the first to get back on her feet, but as Dante looked up, he could see a shadowy figure approaching them from a dimly lit alley behind Marissa. He tried to yell, or warn her to look behind her and run, but his mouth would not open. His tongue felt swollen, and his jaw was set. He could taste a bit of blood in his mouth from the fall, and could see the shadowy figure only a few feet behind Marissa. The figure broke into a run, faster than any Olympic sprinter, and was instantly behind Marissa. As she turned around, the figure delivered a swift and powerful punch to her temple and knocked her out cleanly. Dante's eyes went as wide as possible, and a muffled cry that sounded like a wounded animal came out of his throat. The figure grabbed Marissa by the hair and began to drag her unconscious body into the alley, until they became enveloped in darkness, and Dante had lost sight of them.

Thirty minutes passed as Dante lay completely paralyzed in the middle of the road, the image of the love of his life being dragged away from him by a stranger hidden in the dark. His only thought being about how powerless he was. That he had just laid in the road, and not tried hard enough to make a sound, or do anything to help Marissa. He had promised her he would protect her from this world, but now the world had taken her from him.

Actually, not the world. One person specifically. One man who was too afraid to be seen in the light. Feeling had begun to work its way through Dante's jaw, as he saw a familiar shadow moving slowly through the darkness toward him. Dante could not move quite yet, but his eyes were set directly on the figure, all the malice and bloodlust he could muster being present in the glare he was giving him. Dante did not consider himself a hateful person, and he had never even gotten into a fight with someone before, but he wanted nothing more than to kill whoever this figure might be, and take back the light which had been stolen from him.

When the figure made it to where Dante laid, he stood directly over Dante. His presence was very ominous, and it actually made Dante shiver, from fear or pure hatred. He could not tell at the time, but with the angle he stood at, Dante could not see his face. It was covered completely by shadow, with the exception of a single eye. An eye that nearly blended in with the darkness, only separated by the glimmering of red on the iris that appeared to be the shade of blood flowing freely. When Dante saw this, he knew exactly who he was facing. He was laying at the feet of a ghoul, but not just any ghoul.

He was at the mercy of Il Messaggero di Morte.

Dante began to open his mouth to scream some sort of explicative at the ghoul, but before he could mutter anything the ghoul brought down his foot on Dante's head with a force that could have shattered stone, and knocked Dante out.

As Dante's vision began to blacken, he wondered if this was what death felt like. The grim reaper had sent his most powerful of agents to him, and now Death had began to wrap its arms around him. The last thought Dante had was of Marissa, and if he would be able to meet her in the afterlife, if there actually was one. He was never a religious person, as he thought people were only religious until they did not need to be, but in that moment he cried and begged to a God he did not believe in to not separate him from the one angel he had known in his life, or to at least spare her from the Hell he knew he was damned to be in, and to allow her to look down on him and protect him further more. He pictured her with a white gown on, with wide, white, feathery wings behind her and the a bright burning light that blazed behind with the gates of Heaven opening up to allow her to watch his death. However, the one thing he noticed after all that was that even in death, she was wearing the wedding ring he slaved his life away to buy her. Then, like a scene in a tragedy, she smiled. And with that, Dante embraced the darkness, and lost his will to live. His world went to black as he heard what sounded like the scraping of leather across the street in which he laid in.

When Dante opened his eyes again, he was struck by a gloriously white light. At first, he thought maybe he had somehow snuck his way into Heaven, but that suspension of belief was shattered once his eyes adjusted. The light source was coming from a surgical light hanging high above him, and when he tried to pull himself upright, he could not bring himself to do so. He could not even lift his head up completely, but could feel the chill of cold metal on his neck and around his wrists and ankles. He somehow managed to turn his head at a slight angle to see his surroundings. He was somehow bolted down onto a table in the middle of a dimly lit room that reeked of blood and rusting metal. He had had his shirt ripped open and had his pants legs cut halfway up to his knees. He began to struggle to try and break free of his restraints, but it was to no avail.

When he finished, Dante heard the loud creaking of a metal door sliding open on the other side of him. The figure who had attacked Marissa was walking into the room with a hood concealing his face and an entirely black attire, obviously meant to help him in hiding in the shadows. He was sliding a medium sized cart in front of him, and the squeaking of the wheels led Dante to believe that the cart had been used to its limit. When the figure arrived next to Dante, it removed its hood to reveal long and rather sweaty brown hair. It hung in his face, as to further hide his true identity from Dante. When Dante looked down at the cart, he felt a shiver rush through his body and his eyes widen with fear. On the cart lay five rusted, from what he assumed was from blood, scalpels and knives. There was also a hammer, a pair of pliers, and even a small blowtorch, with some other tools he could not name.

"I wasn't expecting you to come to so quickly" came the gravelly voice of the figure. "How unfortunate for you, I suppose." The figure reached onto the lower shelf on his cart and began to wrap a laboratory apron around him. Dante noticed that his voice sounded a bit muffled, as if he was wearing a mask over his mouth. "By now, I can assume you know who I am. If not, then there's no worries. Because I know exactly who you are, Dante di Angelo" said the figure as he stretched on some lime green surgery gloves. Of course Dante had an idea of who he was, but as much as Dante would have loved to scream and call him other things, The Messenger's presence and Dante's current position kept him from uttering even the smallest phrase.

"What are your favorite types of movies, Dante?" asked The Messenger. "Personally, I find myself constantly coming back to horror and slasher movies. But more specifically, torture flicks always get my blood boiling in just the right way." He chuckled deeply and sadistically. "Something about the sight of blood on the floor, and the sounds of bones breaking or screams of anguish make me grin from ear to ear. The only light I need in this life of mine is that of my lamp off of my blades." He ran his gloved hand down the side of one of the blades, and then slid its side down Dante's cheek. "What's wrong Dante? Cat got your tongue?"

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Dante managed to let his voice escape him. "I think I actually prefer comedies. However, I do enjoy a good horror flick every now and again." He could feel sweat running down his face from the surgical lighting above him. "But these questions don't exactly shed light on why you took me."

The Messenger laughed maniacally. "Even on your near deathbed, you still find it in your power to be sarcastic. I'm going to enjoy playing with you, Little Dante." Dante could feel his heart shake from the sadistic tones in The Messenger's voice. "Now, I have one more question before we begin the games, Dante. Do you have anyone you consider to be your idol?"

The thought of having a role model never really had crossed Dante's mind before this. "Well, if I have to pick someone, I think Dave Grohl inspired me a lot musically, but I try to be my own role model as a human being."

The Messenger began to pace in a circle around Dante. "That's good to know. I'll be sure to write that down when I remember this ten years from now." Dante could not see it, but he knew The Messenger was smiling a sinister smile beneath that hair. "My hero is a little bit different though. See, a while back, there was this ghoul who resided in the thirteenth district of Japan. This ghoul was special however. He was abducted from his home and subjected to severe cases of physical and mental torture at the hands of an insane surgeon. However, one day, he escaped and consumed the surgeon. And once he got back out into the real world, he vowed to do to others the very same treatment he had gotten. While in those months of being tortured, he lost a screw and had developed a fetish for inflicting pain onto others. That ghoul went by the name "Jason"." The Messenger took a moment to gather his thoughts. "A man like that, with the resolve to constantly abduct and harm others without feeling an ounce of remorse is more deserving of praise than any god or soldier."

Dante tensed his body, and felt the strain of his restraints on his wrists and ankles. "You see, Dante that kind of man is the kind of person I strive to be like. He went by the alias of a famous slasher, and I have been doing the same. The morons in the CCG just have yet to realize it." The Messenger bent down directly over Dante's head, letting his long hair fall from his face down to Dante's. "My name is Michael." The Messenger said and Dante realized what lay underneath his hair and why his voice had sounded muffled. Behind Michael's hair was an expressionless white face mask with hair sticking out of the top in a rather unorderly fashion. Instantly, Dante recognized it.

Michael was wearing the mask of Michael Myers from Halloween.

Dante stared, wide eyed, into the black and red eyes of his capturer. "Now, I hope you don't mind Dante, but I would like to begin our games. I know you're just going to love this first one." Michael said as he picked up a rustic pair of pliers. "See, with these, I'm going to slowly pull off one of your finger and toe nails. However, if you scream, I'm going to burn a random place on your body until you stop." Michael said calmly as he popped his neck.

"Let the games begin."

Dante felt his entire body begin to shake uncontrollably from the pliers as they gripped down onto this left thumbnail. It took every ounce of his strength not to scream as Michael slowly, and agonizingly pulled the nail out of his thumb. He tried desperately to break the restraints on his arm, knowing it would only lead nowhere. He could feel tears running down his face, along with blood as he bit his lip to keep from screaming. When he looked down at his thumb, all he saw was a red and bloody mess from where the nail had been. His hand began to twitch uncontrollably, and Dante could see Michael moving down to his feet. If his thumbnail was this bad, he could not imagine the excruciation his big toe was going to go through. When he felt the pliers on his toenail, he did everything he could to prepare for this mentally. However, as soon as the process was halfway through, Dante let out a wail that would have sent shivers down a grown man's spine. His toe nail was only half way out, but he could not contain his pain any longer. Michael stopped for a moment, but then pulled the rest of his nail out with a powerful jerk. Dante yelled even louder this time. To his surprise, the speed of his nails removal changed little to nothing. Michael looked at him with a disappointed face.

"You disappoint me Dante." Michael said as he shook his solemnly. "I really didn't think you would crack this early, but you should know that I am a man of my word." Michael then walked over to his cart and grabbed a thin iron rod and his blowtorch.

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…" Dante muttered as Michael began to heat up the rod with the torch. Michael began to laugh sadistically and hung his head backwards. "I warned you this would happen, Dante. I warned you, and you thought I was full of shit. Now, let me take from you Dante." Michael forcefully stuck the heated rod onto Dante's bare chest. Dante began to wail again, maniacally and uncontrollably. His body began to spasm and he could feel his vision becoming warped. His thoughts became scrambled, and he could feel the rod pressing deeper into his skin, burning away and destroying the skin beneath it.

He thought maybe at some point the rod would soon reach his sternum and melt that as well. He wanted so badly to find the strength to quite his screams, but he had lost control of himself.

"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die… I can't do this… I'm gonna die… He's gonna… kill me…" Dante thought as he began to lose grip on reality again. Within one minute and thirty seconds of having the rod on him, Dante began to lose his will to stay conscious and began to see the dark grow from the edges of his eyes. His screams began to quiet down, but only because he had already lost consciousness. Now, Dante wanted nothing more to lie in Death's arms, rather than living through Michael's sick fetish. At least when he was unconscious, Dante could pretend to be dead.

Dante knew not if he was in a dream or not, but all he saw when he opened his eyes was darkness. He had fallen into a sea of black, and was truly alone at last. He had no desire to move, and let the darkness carry him as he sank deeper into the abyss. This was not at all how he had pictured the end of his life would be. He had dreamed of dying embracing or being held with Marissa. When his mind began to dwell on her, he realized something. Marissa would not want him to give in now. She would want him to live on.

Dante felt the cold rush of water being splashed on his body and popped his eyes open and screamed. When he opened his eyes, he saw Michael holding a bucket and they were still in the same room as before. He let out a disappointed sigh and laid his head back down on the table. "Damn, I thought maybe I had really escaped you."

Michael laughed. "You can only dream my friend." Dante noticed he was carrying a chain in his other hand and shot a look at him.

"How long was I unconscious, you sick bastard?"

"Only about an hour, I'd say." He pulled the chain lightly and Dante could hear something being pulled, as if on a pulley used in a slaughter house. "You see Dante, while you were out, I devised a new form of punishment for you since you passed out so quickly last time. I'm going to attack you emotionally, rather than physically." He pulled the chain harder, and Dante could hear his heart shatter into a million irreversible pieces.

With her hands tied up over her head, Marissa was pulled into the room on a pulley. Her hair draped her naked body, and she had bruises and small burns covering her once perfect legs, and small cuts from where a knife had been slid across her ribs were laid out evenly on her. Her head was down, and when lifted her eyes to see Dante lying on the table, tears began to flow from her eyes. "Dante…" was all she could bring herself to whisper.

Dante's eyes began to water when he yelled as loud as he could. "Marissa. Don't worry, I'll get us out of this somehow. I'm not sure how yet, but don't worry my love. I won't let this sick fuck hurt you anymore!" Marissa lowered her head again, as if she had run out of strength.

Feeling left out for a bit, Michael walked over to Marissa. "Perhaps I should explain my new form of punishment for you Dante." He ran his fingers across her right cheek, and went down slowly until his hand was in the middle of her chest. "Now, every time you scream I'm going to touch and defile this beautiful body of hers in some way." His hand left her body, and went to his mask as he slightly pulled up at the bottom of his mask to reveal the lower half of his face and then ran his tongue slowly up Marissa's neck. "That was for earlier. And now like this, I won't have to wait for you to wake up to begin our games again." Dante had never struggled more to break something than he was right now, using every ounce of strength he could muster to break his restraints. He was moving so quickly and forcefully he could feel the metal digging into his wrists and ankles, leaving marks and potentially breaking the skin if this kept up. Yet, Dante cared not of his physical body at this moment, and focused every ounce of his soul in trying to get off this table and slaughter Michael.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER, YOU BASTARD! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Dante yelled as his fingers scraped the table. His vision was going blurry with rage, and he could feel blood accumulating under his restraints.

Michael's gaze shifted back to Dante. "Now that's the fire I like to see, Dante!" He left Marissa, and grabbed his pliers while half sprinting back over to Dante. "Now keep that angry face, and steel yourself as I take more from you!"

He gripped the pliers onto Dante's right thumbnail and forcefully pulled it out in one go. Dante gritted his teeth to keep from screaming, because he knew the repercussions, but kept his hateful eyes staring directly into the black abyss of Michael's eyes behind his mask. "MORE DANTE… GIVE ME MORE…" Michael said in a distorted voice that sounded beastly, and quickly went through each of Dante's remaining fingers, jerking the nails out and laying them next to Dante's head. Dante laid his head back, and heard some of his teeth cracking from the magnitude at which he was gritting them. However, at the last finger, his right pinky, Michael pulled one side of it at a time to slowly jerk it out of Dante. When he finally removed it, Dante could not hold back a blood curdling howl. His body went into spasms again as he yelled, and he could see and hear Marissa whimpering on the other side of the room. Michael held Dante's final nail in his hand as he carried it over to where Marissa stood. Dante followed Michael with his gaze the entire way, and never stopped screaming once.

"YOU FUCKING MONSTER! I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL KILL YOUUUUUU!"

When Michael made it to Marissa, he gripped her jaw and lifted her head up. He brought his hand up to her face. "I want you to eat this fingernail. If you don't, I'm going to cut off all of Dante's fingers."

"MARISSA! DON'T DO IT! DON'T PLAY THIS BASTARD'S GAMES!"

Marissa looked at Dante with a heartbroken expression and smiled. "But I have to. If it means protecting you, I'll do anything, il mio amore." The pieces of Dante's shattered heart melted at that, further destroying him internally.

"Oh, how cute." Said Michael sheepishly. In a swift motion he shoved two of his fingers into Marissa's mouth, leaving Dante's fingernail in her mouth, and then forced her to chew and swallow it. Marissa's face turned a light shade of green, and she looked as if she was going to throw her guts up, but much to Dante's surprise she managed to keep it down.

"I told you… anything for you, Dante…" Marissa lowered her head. Dante began to sob, and let his head fall completely to the side. His will gone, like his fingernails.

However, sorrow turned to rage as he saw Michael creep behind Marissa and slide his bloody hands up her body. His hands stopped as they got to her breasts, and he squeezed them hardly, with the obvious intention of hurting her. She whined a bit, trying to act strong, but her embarrassment and fear had gotten the best of her. She did not want Dante to see her like this, with another man touching her against her will. She knew the effect it would have on his mental stability. And to make matters worse, Michael wiped a sharpened fingernail across the side of her neck, and began to lick the small stream of blood that flowed, and started to suck on her neck where the cut was. Dante lay on the table, a quiet rage taken over him at watching the scene.

"Dante… please don't look…" Marissa whimpered.

Dante's eyes had gone white with rage, his mind was lost within emotion. Michael looked up at him in a smug fashion, and then walked over to him and placed his fingers on Dante's temple. "That's a nice face you have there Dante. Think about what you just watched for the rest of the night, and hold it in." He bent down to Dante's ear and whispered something before walking back toward Marissa and pushing her out of the room. Dante would hold onto those words every second of that night.

"Let it plague your dreams."

Dante did not recall falling asleep that night, but he was awoken from his dreamless slumber by the clang of metal on metal. He opened his eyes quickly, and was not surprised to see Michael with his blood stained apron and gloves already on. "Good afternoon, my good friend." He almost sounded giddy to see Dante's battered and bloody body restrained to his table. "I missed hearing your screams last night. It made me feel rather lonely." Michael said as he walked by his cart and grabbed a pair of medium sized hedge clippers. "We're going to have some fun today, Dante." He slowly approached Dante, like an animal creeping up on its prey. "I'm going to cut into you with these, and then I'm going to pour this into your wounds." He whispered sinisterly as he pulled out a bottle of some liquid. "This is rubbing alcohol, and I'm quite sure you know the effects of this on cuts. However, this is going to be going into wounds that are a bit deeper than a tiny cut."

Dante felt a bit of fear rise into his chest, but he was actually more concerned by the fact that Marissa was not here with him. Not that he wanted her to have to see this, but he was terrified by the thought of her being subjected to torture like she was the other night without him being around. "Where is Marissa?" he wanted to ask, but his question was cut short by the sharp incision of the clippers tearing apart his skin. Dante screamed in pain, but Michael did not stop to allow Dante to adjust to the pain. Michael laughed maniacally as he constantly moved the clippers around to different places of Dante's exposed chest, arms, and inner calves. He could feel blood running down all of his body, even up to his neck restraint. With little to no time to catch his breath, Dante felt the painful sting of the rubbing alcohol being drenched onto him from the bottle he pulled out.

However, Michael did leave one area of Dante's body clear of alcohol. His left side had a rather deep cut that was located near the top of his rib cage. "I've been thinking about this since the day I saw you Dante. I've wanted so badly to taste the sweet nectar that runs through these veins of yours." Michael took off one of his gloves and ran two of his fingers through some blood flowing down Dante's side. He then lifted his blood soaked fingers into his mouth. Michael began to yell towards the ceiling as he leaned backwards. "DELICIOUS! BETTER THAN I HAD EVER IMAGINED! I MUST HAVE MORE DANTE!" Michael shoved two of his fingers deeper into Dante's side wound. Dante could feel his fingers sliding across the outside of his ribcage, twisting around in an attempt to pool in as much blood on them as possible. Dante screamed as Michael wiggles his fingers in him. Michael slid his fingers slowly out of Dante's wound, and then ran his tongue up his fingers. "The tang of your blood contrasts so perfectly with your little lady friend." Dante's eyes shot to him in an instant. "I could not have chosen a more perfect pair of entrees."

"We aren't just tools for your amusement, you sadistic bastard." Dante was having trouble breathing as he spoke, the loss of blood getting to him. "Marissa and I are human beings, and we have a right to live just as you do…" Dante said weakly.

Michael sighed and tossed the rest of the rubbing alcohol in his bottle into Dante's side wound. Dante winced with pain, but was able to tolerate a single wound much better than he could his twenty other wounds at the same time. "You see, Dante that is where you are wrong. I know you believe that you play the role of a noble knight, trying to protect that which you hold dear. But you could not be more wrong here. You, and all your little human friends, family, and even strangers alike, are all nothing more than my food source. You are the prey, and I am the predator. Only the strong have the right to survive in this world" Michael slapped Dante with an astounding force that knocked one of Dante's teeth out. Dante could taste blood, and heard the cling of metal on the table. When Dante looked back over, he saw Michael bent over his right hand with the clippers over his ring finger.

"You know, I made a reference to this yesterday, but obviously Marissa had more resolve than I initially imagined. But now… my curiosity and temptation have been peaked Dante." He began to slowly pull the clippers together. Dante felt the increased pressure being placed behind his second knuckle, and eventually the breaking of his skin. Dante screamed for what felt like the millionth time and he heard the bone in his finger breaking, and giving way to the force behind the clippers. Michael picked up his freshly severed finger and dangled it directly over Dante's face. "And now with this, I will forever have a piece of you with me Dante."

Dante watched in awe as Michael lifted his finger over his head, and put it into his mouth. Michael chewed his finger exactly thirty seven times, Dante counted, and never broke their gaze of each other. Michael's gaze spoke of humor and contempt, while Dante's gaze emanated rage and despair.

"I enjoyed today Dante. I'll be back once you've passed out from blood loss to patch you up so you won't die completely." He turned and began to walk away, but stopped for a moment to say one word before leaving. "Yet."

"Give it back, you bastard…" Dante's voice came out weakly, and almost ghastly. His trauma cracking the mental walls he had set up at conception. His will to live flowing out of him like the "sweet nectar" Michael called his blood. "Give it back, give it back, give it back… come back here, you son of a bitch… Bastard… Bring it back… Bring her back…" were the words Dante repeated until he embraced the chilling warmth of unconsciousness.

When Dante came to, he had no idea at how much time could have possibly passed, but when he glanced at the nearest wall to distract himself he saw a mirror that let him see his body for the first time in what felt like years. He had developed large dark circles beneath his eyes, and his shirt had been completely stripped, but his body was covered with medical bandaging. "At least that sadist can keep his word…" He muttered. He also noticed that his neck restraint had been removed for some reason, and lifted his head to look down at his right hand. He began to sob as he saw the space in his hand where his ring finger had been. The scene of Michael eating it came back into his mind.

Just as he replayed the scene in his mind, Michael walked into the room. Michael glanced at him behind his mask, but continued to pace around the room in an anxious manner.

"Dante, I'm going to be completely honest with you here. No one besides you has survived for this long, so I really want to make these future sessions special for us." He clapped his gloved hands together. "You know what, I just thought of a solution. I'm going to play with you all day, but I'm not going to wear my mask. How does that sound to you Dante?"

Dante stared at him with the eyes of a corpse, the color long faded from them. He could not even muster the things he wanted to say.

"I'll take that as a yes then, you party pooper." Michael said sarcastically as he removed his mask, finally showing his face.

Dante's eyes went wide in shock, and he could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate. The face he saw was familiar, but was that of a stranger. Someone he had never known, but someone he had met. And once Michael opened the dark pits of black and scarlet that he called his eyes, Dante instantly recognized him.

Michael has always been the man who had bumped into Marissa and him those days ago.

"You look like you have something you wish to ask." He said sheepishly.

Dante let his nerves calm before he spoke, as he was hyperventilating and experiencing shock. After five minutes of silence, Dante finally spoke the first word he had said to Michael that wasn't a threat. "Why us?"

Michael cocked his head slightly to the right. "Why you ask?" He laughed his maniacal laugh. "You should know that we ghouls feed off you humans Dante."

"No… I meant why us? Why Marissa and I? What did we do to deserve this…?" Dante whispered as he lowered his head.

"Dante, there was no reason. You both just happened to be the only people I found that day. I could have found anyone. You and she aren't special to me. All you humans are equal in my eyes." He smiled the sinister smile Dante knew he was hiding the entire time. "You're all just walking forms of pleasure and enjoyment to me. You, Marissa, your friends, your family, and all the people of Verona you have yet to meet, are all mine to have and do with what I desire. YOU ARE ALL MINE AND ONLY MINE…" Michael grabbed hammer he had been keeping on the cart. "AND NOW I SHALL TAKE WHAT IS MINE FROM YOU."

Dante's face twisted with anger, and his strength had come back to him for a moment. "You self-righteous son of a bitch. You really think you're so far above all us humans?" He chuckled. "Without us, you would starve. Without us, you would shrivel up and die." Now Dante was screaming. "WITHOUT US, YOU WOULD BE NOTHING, YOU EGOTISTICAL BASTARD!"

Dante was quieted by the swift motion of the hammer in Michael's hand striking him across the jaw. He heard the cracking of his fractured jaw, and most likely cracked and now missing teeth. His head then began to hang down, his mouth unable to close at the moment.

"With such a strong tongue as that, it's no wonder you've become a successful musician." Michael sat the hammer back down onto the cart. He turned his head to the side to look at Dante while keeping his body facing the cart. "You know, I think I need to re-evaluate my position at the top with you. And I believe I know the first step to knock you down." He grabbed his blowtorch, and began to heat up a thick knife to the point of it glowing red with heat. He then pulled Dante's head straight upright, his jaw still dangling and half unconscious. Michael then wrapped a leather strap across Dante's forehead to keep his head in place so it would not fall, and then pulled Dante's tongue out, gripping tightly with his index finger, middle finger, and thumb. Michael then picked up the superheated knife and raised it to Dante's exposed and vulnerable tongue.

"I JUST HAVE TO REMOVE THE SOURCE OF REBELLION…!"

Dante had never experienced the pain he had felt just then, the immense heat emanating from the knife that cauterized his severed tongue as it sliced it off. Dante's screams filled the room, as slurred as they were, resembled that of a banshee. His voice was gurgled and distorted because of the blood that had flowed down his throat before the wound was cauterized. His entire body began to spasm out of control, and his prior wounds began to open up and bleed again. Michael got into Dante's face after throwing his severed tongue into the floor. "Do you still feel like fighting back against me, you peasant? I am a God to you. You are nothing without me. That is where you were wrong before." Michael placed the knife down and pulled the strap down over Dante's eyes, blinding him and making him oblivious to everything that was about to happen.

Suddenly, an immense wave of pain rushed through Dante's left arm as he heard the crunching of bones in his hand. More specifically, the fingers on his left hand. Michael's voice filled Dante's ears like the Devil himself was whispering into his ears.

"Dante, you've really upset me today. I wanted you to be special. I wanted you to be different. But you turned out to be just like the rest. And now I'm going to take half of you away. Now, I would much rather take all of you and be done with you, but I want you to suffer beyond words. However, I doubt you'll be forming any words, or singing any melodies, again anytime soon." Dante could feel tears sliding down his face as Michael shoved a gag into his mouth to keep him from screaming further.

"I've grown bored of hearing your screams. All I want now is to break you. Or rather, half break you." There was a rush of wind, from what Dante assumed was the hammer that rushed into Dante's ear as the same rush of familiar pain and breaking of bones, this time in his hand. Dante wailed a mess of muffled whimpers.

"You brought this on yourself. I'm going to go to break every bone in your left arm, and then your left leg. Don't you dare pass out on me Dante."

Dante's muffled screams filled every hall of the abandoned hospital they were in, and they stretched so far that they reached even Marissa, who was on the opposite side of the hospital. She began to sob, both from the pain and the fear of the thought of Dante dying. She wanted nothing more than to hold him and run her fingers through his hair once again. To feel the smooth sensation of his pale skin against hers, and to hear his breathing in rhythm with hers. She longed for him. She longed for the past. She longed to escape this hell, and enjoy the life she and he should be sharing right now. She continued to cry, with the thought of Dante of suffering in whatever sick and twisted form of torture he was going through. She slipped into unconsciousness praying for God to save her and Dante, hoping to wake up somewhere, anywhere but here.

The light of the following morning struck Marissa in a glorious manner, stealing her from her peaceful slumber. Her eyes twitched as they adjusted to the light, all too slowly. Her hopes of waking up from a hellish nightmare crushed when she realized she was still dangling from the ceiling of the hospital. She could feel her strength fading from dehydration and starvation, and she could feel blisters forming on her wrists from the tightness of the chains. She glanced down at all the injuries and small burns that were spread across her body as if she was now an abstract painting. There was nothing beautiful about her once acceptable body. She felt ugly, and not worthy to be looked upon by anyone, especially Dante.

"Good morning, pretty lady." Michael said sarcastically as he entered her room. Marissa said nothing, in an effort to not give him the satisfaction of her acknowledgment, and sank her head. "You know, you and Dante are truly the opposites of each other. I suppose it's no wonder you two are so attracted to each other." He walked up to her and grabbed her chin tightly. "Two corner pieces that somehow found a way to fit into each other. So sweet it makes me sick." Marissa noticed that Michael had not worn his mask today and could faintly recall an image of him she could not recall. It was like she had seen him somewhere before, like she was having a sick, twisted form of déjà vu.

"A brilliant idea struck me yesterday, as I was breaking half of your lover's bones." Michael said with a chuckle, walking behind her. Marissa's eyes went wider than she could have ever imagined possible as she inhaled sharply. "I thought, why don't I try something new? Something that isn't physical torture. Something that goes deeper than the skin, and scars in the mind and soul." He ran his fingers slowly up her exposed back, and sent chills up her spine. "If I can break Dante's bones and his soul, then I will have evolved and surpassed the man I idolize. I will finally become the monster I dream of, and that you fear." When Marissa attempted to turn her head to face him, her vision became nothing but darkness as Michael had now blindfolded her. He began to push against her back, sliding her through the halls of the hospital to a destination she knew not.

Dante awoke to darkness, or rather a light shade of brown that had light blaring through it. He was blindfolded and gagged, but he was not bolted to the table anymore. He could feel his arms and legs tied to a wooden chair by a rope that was tightly, but unprofessionally tied. He could hear footsteps echoing through the halls, so Dante assumed he was in a new room. God only knew what kind of torture he was to be put through today. He had already lost the things that brought him the little success he had earned, his arms and tongue. He could never sing or play any sort of instrument ever again. Fifteen years of dedication went down the drain. However, none of that felt as significant to Dante as much as Marissa's safety meant to him. Even if he could not talk, or hold her hand, or walk with her the same way, as long as she was safe then Dante knew he had a reason to survive.

The sudden banging of doors being kicked open made Dante jerk his head in the general direction, and suddenly the room was filled with Michael's demonic banter. "Good afternoon Dante, my old friend! Boy do I have a treat for you today!" Dante could hear his footsteps growing louder as Michael approached him, and when his blindfold was removed he felt a small bit of relief and anxiety.

Marissa was hanging in front of him, burned and bruised and cut, but she was alive and looking into his eyes with concern that ran deeper than the ocean. The connection in their eyes spoke more than words could ever hope to convey, and both of their eyes began to fill with tears. Both from grief of seeing the other in such a battered state, but also from relief at seeing each other alive in one piece, more or less.

However, their moment of connection was interrupted as Michael stepped in front of Dante and leaned down to get to his eye level. "Today, I'm going to break you apart on the inside Dante. I'm going to hit you in a place that even bluntest of hammers, or the sharpest of blades, or hottest of flames could reach. I want to run a scar so deeply in you that it will break the fabric of who you are. I want to make you suffer far beyond any physical pain. I want to pass the physical boundary, and attack your soul." Michael smirked evilly and pointed behind him at Marissa.

"I'm going to make you watch me torture the one person you care about more than yourself. I will break your soul by desecrating the one thing you have left to hold on to. I'm going to defile the woman you love, and make you watch helplessly as I have my way with her." Michael got up and walked away to stand behind Marissa and stared Dante coldly in the eyes while running one hand down her stomach, and the other up to her chest.

"With this… I will truly break you, Dante."

Dante began to shake violently in his chair, occasionally making it leave the ground. He made a variety of muffled noises, partly because of the gag and also from his lack of a tongue. The sight of Michael's hands sliding up and down Marissa's skin infuriated him to no end, and lit a fire in him he thought had died. His instincts were taking over, and he could feel his mind leaving him in place of his rage. What made matters worse was that Michael's eyes never left Dante's. He looked into his eyes with the deepest contempt and enjoyment at seeing him in pain. Michael cared not what he was doing to Marissa, he only wanted to get a reaction out of Dante. Dante could hear the wooden chair he was roped to beginning to crack from his force, but it did not shatter.

"What should I do first to her, Dante? Perhaps I should cut her open, and eat her right in front of you? Or perhaps leave more burns across her body, make her into a walking piece of coal?" Michael slid his tongue up Marissa's neck, to her ear, and nibbled at it. "Or maybe I should just have my way with her while you're powerless to stop me. I like the sound of all these options, really." His gaze went into Dante's. "Perhaps I should kill her first, and then torture you with this." He swiped her cheek with a sharpened fingernail, opening a small trail of blood that ran down her cheek.

"Oh how sweet her despair smells." Michael licked the blood off her. "Don't you worry, I'm going to be good to you." He lifted Marissa's legs up, despite her resistance, and wrapped them around his waist. "Are you watching Dante? I would hate for you to miss a second of this."

Dante could hear the sound of a zipper being undone and began to shake in his chair again. "You motherfucker… If you do that, I'm going to fucking end you." He wanted to say, but he could not get the words to escape his gagged mouth.

Michael looked back contemptuously, but kept his body facing Marissa. "At least let me finish first. I've been holding this in for days now, dammit." After a smooth movement of Michael's body, Marissa gritted her teeth to keep from making a noise, but a small moan that came with tears began to come from her. Michael turned his face back to her. "Crying already? I must be a little bigger than you're used to, eh Marissa?" He laughed and ran his tongue across her cheek as they moved against each other.

Dante felt his right eye begin to twitch as he watched them, his powerlessness truly sinking into him. "I can't just sit here and watch this… I have to fucking do something. I'll fucking kill this bastard. I'll fucking eat him…" He thought as he began to try and break his chair again. He could hear creaking and the small snapping of wood, and the sound of Marissa's moans urging him to press on. His left arm ached because of his broken bones, but the pain also urged him on. He had every intention of breaking free of his restraint and destroying Michael.

Marissa turned her head to Dante and gave him an expression that told Dante what she was thinking. I'm sorry, please don't watch this. I don't want you to see me like this. She knew from the way that Dante steadied himself that he could read her expression. Even in this deepest pit of Hell, Marissa held her faith that Dante would get them out of this somehow. However, she hated that she was the one thing that was causing Dante the most pain. It was because of her that Dante was losing his sanity and will to be survive.

"And with this, I'm almost at my limit, Marissa. Sadly, this beautiful moment we're sharing is going to end." He bent forward and bit her lip until it began to bleed. "I hope you'll remember this as I will. Making love will never be the same as we're making it." He ran his hand up her chest and up to her neck, and began to choke her as he began to move his hips more violently and uncontrolled. "Maybe I should let you have my child, and then kill you. Or maybe just keep you around to use as form of release?" He got into her face and stared deeply into her eyes, the black and crimson of his reflecting off the white in hers. "What do you think about that, my dear?"

To Dante and Michael's surprise, Marissa had no comeback to that, but simply spit in Michael's face. Her saliva got in his eye, forcing him to stumble back, backing away from Marissa and becoming free of her legs. After he wiped his eyes clean, he walked up to her with his head down. The room was filled with a very loud smacking sound as Dante saw Michael make a swift movement with his arm. Michael slapped Marissa with a force that sent her head flying in the opposite direction. "You stupid wench. I give you the pleasure of intimacy with me, and you spit in my eye? I ought to end your fucking existence here and now, and be done with you." He grabbed her cheeks and squeezed them together. "But I still have a purpose for you." He went behind her, and started to push her closer to Dante, who watched in horror and anguish. "Maybe you'd prefer the touch of hot silver to your skin over my own." He pulled out a small kitchen knife and began to heat it up with the blowtorch he had used on Dante. He ran the red hot blade across Marissa's tender skin, and left a gaping line down the middle of her chest that began to ooze with blood. She screamed in agony, and Dante began to spasm in his chair.

BASTARD, BASTARD, BASTARD, BASTARD, BASTARD, BASTARD, BASTARD, BASTARD! He thought as he could feel the chair further weakening from his force. Just a little more, and he would be free.

Michael let out a sinister howl as he ran his fingers into Marissa's chest wound. "I suppose you truly are beautiful on the inside. How surprising." He pulled out his fingers and put them to his mouth. "Mmm…and how sweet you taste, my sweet." He slid his hand up her leg, and ran the blade across her forehead, letting blood spill down into her face. "With such a mixture of pain and pleasure, I'm surprised you haven't gotten addicted to my love yet, Marissa darling." He lifted his head and ran his tongue across the wound, digging his tongue into the cut forcing Marissa to yelp in pain.

Her pain however, was nothing compared to that of Dante's psychological scarring. Michael wanted to break Dante down to the soul, and now he had succeeded. The once compassionate Dante had lost himself in the sea of hatred that now flooded his mind. He wanted nothing in the world but to destroy Michael, and take from him as he had taken from him. "Dante, pick up your head and look at me." Michael beckoned him, and Dante's eyes followed. What Dante saw would lead him down a path of no return. Michael was behind Marissa again, with his finger at her throat. He carefully slid his finger across her throat, another trail of blood following his finger. He then placed his entire hand across her throat, and squeezed more blood to flow freely outward. Dante began to cry and scream incomprehensible noises that even he could not understand, pleading Michael to stop. He could see the life being squeezed out of Marissa, yet Michael continued to add pressure and release blood. Michael looked at him with those same deep, dark, contemptuous eyes, and squeezed further, and further, and further, and further, and tighter, and tighter, and tighter.

And in the blink of an eye, the breaking of Marissa's neck filled Dante's ears, and the sight of her eyes rolling back into her head that freely dangled now on her body would be an image he could never erase from his nightmares.

Michael laughed. A somehow more maniacal and evil laugh even the Devil himself would have shivered at. "SHES DEAD! SHES FUCKING DEAD DANTE! DID YOU SEE THAT?!" He walked over to Dante, who now had his head bowed, and looked down at him like a human would an ant. "I KILLED HER RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, AND YOU DID NOTHING! SHES DEAD, AND I KILLED HER! I'VE TAKEN THE ONE THING YOU NEEDED TO ENDURE MY GAMES!" He removed the gag on Dante's mouth, hoping to hear him sob or scream. "NOW I CAN PLAY WITH YOU UNTIL YOU BREAK AGAIN! YOU WILL BE TOYED WITH UNTIL YOU DIE, AND THEN I'LL EAT YOU, YOU PATHE-!"

Michael's speech was cut short by the sudden snapping of Dante's chair, and Dante suddenly sinking his teeth into Michael's throat. The wood from Dante's chair clattered to the ground as Dante placed his right hand over Michael's face, and put his leg behind Michael's, making Michael lose his balance and send them both crashing to the floor. Michael screamed as they made impact, and Dante took the opportunity to sink his teeth further and then pulled his head back, ripping a large chunk of Michael's neck out. Michael's blood began to cover the floor as it flowed from his large open wound.

"You son of a bitch…" He yelled as he attempted to cover the wound and kicked Dante off of him, sending him flying backward to the wall. Dante landed next to Michael's cart of tools. Michael began to crawl away, wondering if this would truly be the end of him. "What am I going to do now? I can't possibly close a wound this large on my own… I need to…" His eyes traveled to Marissa's corpse. "I need to eat." He immediately changed directions, and began to crawl towards Marissa. He could feel saliva forming in his mouth as he hungered for the taste of her flesh. However, a sudden rush of pain went through him as his progress was stopped. He turned his head back to see Dante holding one of the metal rods from his cart, the rod was protruding out of the back of his leg. Dante held three more in his hands.

"HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE THE ONE PINNED DOWN?" Dante muttered in an almost unrecognizable voice. His voice was low, and a bit slurred from his severed tongue, but he had somehow gotten the words out. When Michael looked at Dante's face, he thought he was staring at a demon. His face was covered by shadows, and his eyes had gone white from his anger. In the blink of an eye, Dante brought another rod and dug it through Michael's left calf. Michael screamed as Dante twisted it to go deeper in. "DOES IT HURT? THIS IS NOTHING COMPARED TO WHAT YOU PUT MARISSA AND I THROUGH." Dante limped forward a bit, and then penetrated Michael's forearm with another rod. The sudden realization of dying finally hit Michael at full force here. He was practically completely pinned down to the floor of the hospital by one of the victims he chose to torture.

"Karma really is a bitch…" He said as Dante brought down the last rod through his other arm. He yelped, feeling blood flow from his neck and appendages onto the floor. "If only I would have eaten that girl sooner, I could have used my kagune to kill you here and now Dante."

Dante smirked and looked down on Michael with the same contemptuous looks he had given him earlier. "Well, whose fault is that?" Dante stood up slowly, and stumbled back over to Michael's cart. He grabbed a knife, and then slowly made his way back to Michael and sat on his back. He jammed the knife into Michael's coat, and began to cut it off Michael.

"What do you think you're doing, Dante?" Michael said skeptically.

Dante ripped off the ripped jacket from Michael's back. "I'm giving you a taste of your own medicine." He stabbed the knife into Michael's back and carved it around, forming a shape, and then pulled a large chunk of meat out of Michael. "Have you ever consumed a ghoul, Michael?"

Michael could feel tears forming in his eyes from the pain. "No, only humans. I-I-I've heard they taste terrible. I only subject myself to the most pleasuring of tastes…"

Dante shoved the flesh into his mouth and began to chew. The tender meat had the taste of rotten fish, or a steak that had been sitting out in the open for at least a month. Dante felt himself gag from the taste, and the thought of consuming a Ghoul, but he pushed himself on to finish it. His breathing became heavy after he swallowed, and he felt tears well up in his eyes. He stabbed the knife back down and continued to carve out chunks of flesh as Michael screamed hysterically.

"YOU WERE RIGHT. YOU ARE DISGUSTING. BUT YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO EAT ME, SO YOU HAVE NO ROOM TO COMPLAIN IF I EAT YOU. RIGHT?"

For the next thirty minutes, Dante continued to stab Michael's knife into his flesh and rip pieces of him out and consume them right in front of him. Maniacal screaming filled the hospital, though Dante knew that no one could hear them, as no one had heard his own. Now, the tables had turned, and the prey had become predator. Dante had never felt more empowered as he consumed the skin and muscle of Michael's body. He could feel his teeth slowly growing back, and his bones becoming stronger and reforming in his body. He could not explain it, but he somehow felt stronger. He threw the knife to the side of the room, and began to rip apart Michael's skin with his bare hands and shove it into his mouth. Nearly his entire body was covered in Michael's blood now, and there were loose chunks of flesh spread across the floor, soaking up blood. Dante's vision had also gone from being quite blurry from trauma to being a slightly red tint, as if he was looking through red glasses. He knew that by now Michael was dead, but his hunger made him continue to consume his dead body. Eventually, the only thing that remained of Michael's corpse was his head and his skeleton, though Dante had snapped some of the bones to consume the marrow in them.

Dante stood up from his first meal in ages, and glared down at Michael's head. His mouth was gaping open, and it almost seemed as if he was trying to scream or say something. As Dante walked away, he stomped Michael's head, crushing the skull and sending the remaining chunks of brain matter scattering across the floor and soaking his foot with blood. He stopped when he got to Marissa's corpse and knelt down beside her. He picked up her head and held her in his arms, thinking back to all the times they had together. He ran the fingers on his right hand through her hair, to get it out of her face, and took note that his ring finger had grown back along with his fingernails and toenails.

"Marissa…" He muttered as he stared at her pale face. "Even in death, you're still the most elegant and beautiful girl I have ever laid my eyes on." He pulled her closer to him, and buried her face into his chest as he sobbed for her. "I…I just wish I could have kept my promise to you… I should've done more to protect you… This is my fault. This is all my fault. I'm so sorry, il mio amore…" He could feel his tears running down his face, and though he had regained clear speech, likely from his tongue growing back like everything else he had lost, he still felt as though the most important part of him was taken away, and would never grow back.

His heart.

His body carried on, but his heart and soul were taken from him.

Dante really was not sure if enduring all the torture was worth it now. Sure, he was alive, but he wasn't taking it all so he could survive. He just didn't want Marissa to have to live without him. Now, Dante would be forced to live without her.

Dante laid Marissa's body down gently on the floor, and searched the room for something he could wrap Marissa in. Thankfully, he found a large white sheet of fabric, presumably for wiping away blood, and went back to Marissa and covered her body in it, leaving her face exposed. He picked her up, and began to carry her bridal style through the hospital until they found an exit. Or rather, until he found an exit.

Dante's eyes never left Marissa's expressionless face.

While walking through the halls, Dante happened to glance at a nearly completely shattered window, and saw his reflection. He looked like a walking skeleton, the lean muscle that covered his body gone, and his hair had grown considerably in the past days. He had lost track of time after the second day. But there was one thing he noticed more than anything else.

His eyes had become black like an abyss with the irises shining a bright scarlet, and he had small lines that looked like cracks running from his new eyes across his face.

Dante was now one of the monsters that had killed Marissa.

However, the shock of becoming a Ghoul did not affect Dante nearly as much as it normally would have. He felt the same as he did before, but somehow different. He felt stronger. He was like a walking corpse with iron skin. On the inside he was dead, but on the surface he was stronger than ever.

Eventually, Dante found an exit to the hospital and began wandering around the dark and empty streets of Verona, hidden in the shadows. He knew not where he could go now, certainly not back to his apartment. For the owner would not let him through seeing him with the eyes of a Ghoul and the body of his lover in his arms. He also couldn't go to Marissa's family, as they would assume somehow that Dante would be responsible for her death. Which Dante did blame himself for, but he doubted he would even be able to really look Marissa's family in the eyes again. If they didn't like him before, now they would surely despise his existence. Dante was truly lost. Not only that though, he was lost and alone now.

After walking for what felt like hours, Dante stumbled upon an empty park. He saw many beautiful and intricate hedge works that ran into each other making shapes that resembled something like crop circles or a maze. He knew instantly where he was. He was in the Garden Giusti, the place where Dante had taken Marissa on their first date. The day when Dante realized he wanted to marry her, and stay by her side. And now she was gone. Because of him.

He carried her to the fountain that stood in the middle of the garden, and sat on the ledge on one its ledges, and placed her head on his lap and stroked her bloody hair.

"I miss you so much, Marissa…" he said weakly as he stared longingly at her. He could feel rain beginning to fall, as it soaked his hair slightly. He held his head over Marissa's in hope that she would not get wet, but he saw small, slightly red, droplets falling on her face. He wiped one off and licked it, thinking it to be blood, but to his surprise, it was a tear. His tears had become red. He had not realized he was still crying, but chances are that he never really stopped.

"I doubt I'll ever stop blaming myself for your death, Marissa… If only I had been stronger, I…" He felt his body clinch as he tried to get the words out. His bloody tears began to flow more freely. "I could have saved you, but I'm pathetic, just as Michael said…" He cupped his hand on her cheek, and covered a majority of her face with the now wet fabric. "I could not save you in life" He bent his head down and kissed her forehead. "But I will avenge you in death, il mio amore" He pulled the rest of the fabric up to where it would cover her face completely, and got up to walk away. While walking away, he noticed one of her hands dangling free from the fabric. He turned around and went to place it safely inside, and when he got there he saw that she was still wearing the ring he had bought her. His heart ached as he did so, but he retrieved the ring from her finger and placed on his newly grown ring finger, to keep as a reminder of her. He wrapped her arm inside the fabric, and whilst clutching her anchor necklace around his neck, walked away from her for the last time.

Dante walked for about thirty minutes until he found a payphone, and dialed the number for the Verona CCG. The phone rang about three times, but was then answered by what sounded like a middle aged woman who was ready to be off work and drink with her friends. "Verona CCG Head Office, what is your emergency?"

"There's a dead body in the Garden Giusti, it's a Ghoul victim. Hurry here." Was all he said, or all he could bring himself to say, and he left the phone dangling as he walked through the dark and lifeless city.

While walking through the city, on his way back to his apartment, Dante passed by a shop window and looked at himself in the reflection again. He somehow appeared the same as he was before the torture. However, his skin had grown pale, and he now had bags under his eyes. He also had large scars covering his body where the flesh he had lost had grown back spontaneously. He looked down at his chest, and touched the scar across his chest softly. When he looked back up at himself, he saw his red tears flowing down his face like blood, as it mixed with the rain that now came down quite strongly, plastering his black hair to his now pale skin.

"I truly am a monster now, aren't I…?"

He covered his face with his hand as he continued his trek to his apartment, and noted that he could hear sirens wailing in the background.