A Search for Something More
A/N: The Crow & it's character's don't belong to me even if I wish they did, so as you very well know, no suing please. Let me know if I should continue this.
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His long, dark hair hung down; reminiscent of black silk. The sorrow in his eyes was focused elsewhere tonight . . . not on the snow globe his father gave him for his birthday but on the darkened city that tortured his soul daily.
His sister showered the blood off her body as the corpse lay behind him. The woman was young, they had pushed her body too far, pushed the pain too far. He had let her play with the knife too long; let her linger with the flame too long . . . everything had all taken too long.
Yes, he enjoyed destruction and chaos . . . anarchy, but the destruction of a life always had a purpose, and the purpose tonight was pleasure . . . and he hadn't been able to enjoy her first! He hadn't been able to fuck her first or torture her for himself . . . that had been the worst part.
All he felt now was emptiness and sorrow, something he usually felt less strongly after sex. Somehow this woman's death had left him feeling sorry, for a little while at least. She had brought back memories of the past that he hadn't really wanted to remember. He loved Myca and her crazy antics . . . after all things she was his sister and she did fulfill him in ways at times that no other person ever could. But the point was that he could have her whenever he wanted and he couldn't fulfill with her some of the urges he had, the predatory urges he had within himself: to torture and to kill his prey after fucking it so hard it wished it died.
A cold, slender hand touched his shoulder and the water dripped down his chest. "Thinking about the past?" she asked as she walked around to face him.
He rested his head against her pallid stomach. "I think you broke her . . ." he sighed, "we," he corrected thickly.
"Why? You wanted more fun?" she asked smiling as she lifted his head. His dark eyes fell on the beads of water traveling down between her breasts.
She laughed lustily and kissed his forehead. She began to push him over onto the bed but something in him was fighting back. "No," he said hoarsely.
"What?" she asked incredulously looking at him.
"You heard me Myca, I said no," he repeated.
She began to try and push him over again, to try and sit on top of him but he shoved her back and got up. He pushed her into the wall roughly, his dark eyes aflame with anger and hatred for only a moment. He had her by the throat up against that gritty wall and she looked deeply into his eyes and chuckled lustily.
"I like this . . ." she said raising her arms up as if restrained. She raised her leg and hugged his body closer to hers.
He sighed and let her go, slightly sickened by her reaction but slightly liking it. They were quite a pair and he had always loved her, they had always been inseparable. But, like he said . . . there were things he could only do with prey and not with her, though right now he had that urge to really hurt this bitch. The urge to inflict pain burned beneath his skin and she was pushing him over the edge and she knew it.
He felt the burning in his loins, he felt the twitch . . . but his mind was fighting so hard against it. He shoved her thighs off of him. He rested his fists on the wall around her face for only a second and looked deeply into her eyes. He sighed after seeing what was there and pushed himself off, beginning to walk away from her.
She ran after him, grabbing him by the waist and throwing kisses upon his muscular back. She ran her hands down his body, trying to tempt him, trying to get him to come back to her. He shivered at her familiar touches, her soft caresses, as he changed his course and continued walking towards his cabinet.
He grabbed his sword and turned around to face her. "Leave me alone Myca!" he screamed pointing it at her throat as she held back for only a second.
She grabbed the blade and touched her throat with it. "Kill me . . . Go ahead, do it!" she screamed. She scratched her throat a little with the blade "If you want to do it, do it!"
He pulled the sword away from her and threw it aside. "If you want someone to kill you Myca ask someone else to do it," he spat as he walked away from her.
She got up to go after him but he turned around before she got to him. "Myca, don't tempt me again because if you do I will kill you, you stupid bitch," he whispered.
"What is wrong with you!" she asked bewildered.
"I need to get away from you . . . I need a fuck, and not from you," he stated as he walked out the door and into the loud, swarming club outside their home. He slipped on a black silk shirt as he walked down the steps and past the mass of people. He walked out a side door onto the dark streets of his chaotic city; the wind blowing his dark hair into his face and hiding him from the world . . . he was ready to find his prey.