The darkness was thick enough to cut with a knife. The wind whispered to me through the confines of my own home. I remember it well. That was the night that he came to speak to me.
His perfectly structured face peered at me through shoulder-length locks of raven-black hair. The suit he wore had framed his body to resemble pure elegance. I had seen him before. I had seen the perfection of himself somewhere. I just didn't know where.
Each step he took echoed across the wood floor. His body swayed in a godly motion so smooth and un human; so seductive. The moonlight had projected just enough light to exenterate his high cheekbones and midnight blue eyes. I was absorbed into his perfection.
By the time I could not hold myself up, he was there to catch me. My body shivered as I was drawn into those midnight blue eyes. There was no iris. His eyes were all blue, though his eyes were just eyes. I read his thoughts and his dreams as if pages in a book. It was a feeling that came naturally. A feeling that I could not avoid.
I awoke on the floor, his suit being viewed from the backside. He was walking away. His footsteps were trailed with blood. I reached towards his back, attempting to speak. Nothing but a whimper of pain came from my efforts. Hearing the noise, he turned back.
Near his mouth
were trails of crimson. They bled down his face and hit the floor.
Touching the right side of my throat and feeling the cooling flame of
his heartbeat gave it away. I listened to his footsteps until they
were gone. I lay bleeding on the floor until my eyesight faded.
Every time that I look in the mirror, I see his face. The trails
of crimson protruding from his mouth in perfect lines. I cannot help
but touch the scarred puncture wounds on my throat and fall... Fall
into those deep blue eyes all over again. I had fed a myth. He was a
dream in a true world. It still amazes me.