Torn
Prologue
Orange flames crackled and popped, wood breaking and snapping under the heat of the blaze.
Rayne gazed on his burning home, his family already dead inside, filled with complete hopelessness and loneliness. Slowly, he turned and limped away, paid no notice to the ash on his face and the blood all over his hands. The emptiness, if it could be given a name, controlled his now frozen heart. What once held the hope of a brighter future was now loaded with the desperation of the abandoned.
The echo that sounded from his boots through the street was unnatural. The speed at which he ran was scientifically impossible. Even with the exercise his breathing, or lack there of, was inhuman. As he accelerated even more in speed, he began to lose his sense of self. His mind was drifting away, somewhere oblivion. Memories that once had value evaporated from his thoughts.
The cloven vampire stood aside as he watched his demon companion attack. A brown-scaled demon charged towards him, it's horrible maw screeching in anger. A dark-haired girl intercepted the blow and used massive strength to send the demon flying in the opposite direction. Brown-scales came clawing back, running at full speed straight at Rayne. A single crooked claw raised in attack, the long black nail slicing across Rayne's cheek. Yet, suddenly, he was gone and all that remained was nothing, not even darkness.
The dark-haired beauty slammed a fist into his jaw; supernatural strength made it hurt more than usual. Her strong hands thrust him backward towards a collection of tin trash barrels. On all fours he made to stand, but her combat boot was there to slug him in the abdomen. His throat was caught in gag convulsions, little masses of vomit slipping from his mouth. She came down on him harder with an assault of punches as she straddled him. " I hate you. This is me, you bastard. You're not real. Just leave me alone. I don't need you anymore. I hate you." She screamed at him. Her attacks only ceased when he stopped struggling to block her blows. Rayne saw the blood all over her hands, felt the blood that stained his face. " I can't…hate…you." He sputtered and coughed. "You're real to me. And I'll never stop…fighting to save you, never give…up. I forgive…you." He lifted his head, but decided against it and let it thud back to the ground. Through slit eyes he peered at one last fist blow soaring in slow motion towards his face. That too erupted into nothingness; Rayne never would know again that she ever existed.
Litter from overflowing trashcans blew around the dark alley. The heavy plastic lid of one of the large metal garbage cans flapped eerily in the wind. Rayne's footsteps were inaudible over the sound of traffic and natural sounds. His legs carried his bruised and bleeding body down the alley. He stopped his trudge in front of the tremendous metal trashcan. For a moment he thought you never fully understand what it's like until you take your first step into that trashcan and pull the newspapers over you. Freezing in the night air, he slung one then two legs over the edge of the bin. Settling in for the night, he pushed rotten, soggy food out of the way and covered himself with a hole-filled shirt. In the end that too vanished and, as this was his last memory, he lost himself.
Rayne doubled over and vomited, continuing that way for five minutes. He couldn't remember anything about himself, not even his name. Feeling slightly less nauseated; he rolled over on his side and clinched his eyes shut. His body shook with painful convulsions and then transmogrified into something even more unearthly.
His eyes opened and all that remained was black irises, then red and slit like a cat's. His lips curled, mouth opening into a snarl. Sharp, pointed white canines exposed themselves and did not retract. A low growl escaped his throat as he climbed up from his hands and knees. His eyes darted around, as he grew acclimated to his surroundings.
When passersby looked upon him in the night he looked like any other insane human being; never judge a person by what's on the outside. Inside there was a monster that was growing, clawing his way to the top, starving for a release. Starving, hungry for death, torment, and suffering. In the end, the demon inside would have his way.
On the street outside the alley, a mother run-walking was carrying a screaming child over her shoulder. The demon felt the life, the warmth, and was drawn to it. After a moment, the screaming ceased; mother and child vanished into the darkness of the night, no sound to signal their passing.