Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.

AN: This is a very disturbing story told in 6 little chapters. It may contain triggers to some of you. It deals with very, very sensitive matters. Please understand that this is an exercise in creative writing – I'm as disgusted by this as you all will inevitably be. Remember that some monsters are human.

Read at your own discretion.

It's wrong. Oh, so wrong... This devastating need to dominate his body, posses his soul, conquer his heart. It's his purity; you know… those gullible green eyes, so trusting in the rightness and fairness of the world. I want to hold him into the safety of my embrace, protect him from the ugly truths that he still ignores.

When he holds my hand I feel an indescribable array of emotions: some good, some bad. It's like an explosion that brings me to life – my lifeline the warmth of his soft skin against mine. There is no malice or second intentions: it's just another thing he does because he is supposed to, because he was told it is safe. It isn't safe, not with me. Never with me…

I hate myself – it isn't normal to feel this way. Normal guys like titties, dream about pussies, fuck girls… but not me. No, I had to be cursed with this disgusting need, plagued by this unfathomable lust for all I shouldn't desire. When I burn for him, I yell at a God I don't even believe in because I need to know why I'm built like this.

When the fire burns too high, I lock myself in the bathroom with his underwear. On that little scrap of fabric, I'm delighted to find his unique scent. With his smell on my nostrils, I allow my mind to wonder to that forbidden place where I daydream about how it would be... I enjoy "our" foreplay… I like the way he teases me by biting my nipples and then soothing the pain with his delicate tongue. Looking into my eyes, he reaches inside my pants and strokes my long, thick cock… It's hard, so hard… And it wants him, so very much… I can almost feel his mouth closing around the head, sucking lightly, driving me wild. It's impossible to hold back any longer. I weave my hands into his hair and hold his head in place… I fuck his mouth in earnest, all the way to his throat, making him gag with the power of my manhood. But I want to cum inside his white, pristine ass. Bending him over, I use very little lube. I want him to feel the pain of my possession. I want him to bleed as a virgin should bleed… I always come at this point, imagining his blood covering my dick.

The blessed orgasmic oblivion lasts only for a second, just until I realize who I have been fantasizing about. Crying is unavoidable and so is the cutting. I need to bleed like I made him bleed in my sick fantasy. I need the pain to stop me from pursuing my sick pleasure in earnest. Seeing my blood running out of my veins I can breathe easier, for I bleed for him… So that he can remain beautiful, untainted by the likes of me.

This weird little ritual of crime and punishment keeps the demons away for a while. For some time, I feel almost normal and see him almost as what I'm supposed to see him. It's when I ask out some bimbo and fuck her brains out. The thing is that fantasizing about him feels better than any pussy, that's why I always go back to him.

As time passes, the intervals between my bolts of perversion get shorter and shorter. Time doesn't dim my ardor, not even as he gets older and some of the things that first called to me fade away. My need is ferocious but I fight with all my might against this pull.

I move away to another state. I don't contact him. I try not to think of him. I start fucking guys. Red-headed, green eyed guys. In my mind, whenever I come, it's in his body – it's his name that passes my lips when my body peaks. For a while, it feels like heaven. But then, I hear his voice… and it isn't your voice. Then, I shove him out of my apartment and cry against my pillow, because it's you that I want, it's you that I need.

My would-be lovers keep getting younger, closer to your age… It's a pathetic, desperate attempt to replace you, to appease the beast that roars for your youthful body. They like it, I see it in their eyes. It's all wrong because you wouldn't have liked it… there would be tears in your eyes and blood on your body.

As my inner monster surfaces, I try to keep you safe by inflicting on others what long to do to you. I rape their body, break their souls, belittle their beings… As they plead for mercy, I grunt in satisfaction, pleased by the extent of their humiliation and my dominance. Oh, how I love their tears, how I relish in their blood.

Again, it seems to be enough for a while… Until it isn't anymore. As I say goodbye to the last shred of decency within my putrid self, I actually find the peace I have been lacking since the day you came into my life. As the man dies and the beast assumes control, I smile for the first time in years. It's time to go home.

My poor, unsuspecting mother was happy and thankful that I finally was going home. She works two jobs and is always tired, having too little time to educate my little brother in the ways of the world. Besides, he needs a male influence in his life, she says. He needs his older brother. He needs me.

Sitting on the bench, watching him play with the other kids, I eagerly anticipate all that will occur after we leave the playground. Mom will be out, all night long – her first date in ages. We won't be disturbed. Just imagining the filthy things I will inflict on his body make my dick weep in anticipation. The waiting is over, now it's time to make my dreams come true.