Sammy's Salute: Hey, y'all. I feel like I'm raping a ten year old with my Peter Pan complex here, but the fuck ever. I recently watched Baccano, and this was inspired by Meg and Dia's song "Monster" that I've listened to half a million times.
My BOSS beta, IcarusWing, had her way with this before it was uploaded.
No innuendo.
Disclaimer: You have the word. Do with it what you will. JUST DON'T SUE ME!
His little whispers,
Love me, love me.
That's all I ask for,
Love me, love me.
He battered his tiny fists to feel something.
Wondered what it's like to touch and feel something.
Maybe it's because this is the most adult thing they've ever done. Maybe it's because he's so much older and at the same time, so much younger. It's too hard to say.
But it does feel inexplicably right. Even as they consider all the people who would be disgusted by it.
She is fifteen forever, just as he is a ten-year-old three hundred year-old child.
They will never grow, they will never change. She will never get the sweet sixteen that was only a week away.
As his hands tangle in white blonde hair, all he can think is that he's glad she's with him. Glad Fermet is dead and that Szilard has joined him.
He truly believes that after Fermet and The Rail Tracer's torture there's nothing left to physically hurt him. And anything following the constant fear of Szilard's wrath, there's not much out there to truly scare him.
However, this is something he's wondered about. The kind of touch he's never experienced, the kind that adults crave so. He would never grow up, never go through puberty, and—if all of the physically older immortals have their way—never fall in love.
But here he is. Here they are. She's laid back on her single bed, arms cautiously slung around his neck, and he's towering above her, for once in complete control.
"Alice…" He whispers into the darkened room, touching her pale, pink flushed face with small, child's hands.
She opens her galactic, golden eyes and smiles for him as he steals another kiss.
Monster.
How should I feel?
Creatures lie here…
Looking through the window...
Just as she lets go, deepening the kiss and bringing him closer, she forcefully draws away. Pushing him back, she struggles to her feet and flees, suddenly desperate to escape the heated situation she's gotten herself into.
For a moment, he is numb. He doesn't understand. What could have possibly…
And then it hits him.
Full force.
In the face.
She thinks this is wrong. That she's broken some rule, violated an ancient taboo. The unspoken commandment of all immortals.
Immortal children are to stay innocent.
He gives chase, not bothering to waste time with stares. He jumps over the railing from the top, breaking a bone, but bringing him that much closer to her.
"You will not get away, Alice!" He screams it, the full force of his rage and sadness coming to the surface in one dizzying rush.
He will not lose her.
Never.
He will never lose anyone again.
That night he caged her.
Bruised and broke her.
Determined, he grabs a rope and a knife. He generally keeps both around for their own safety, but…
She betrayed him.
Now, it's his turn.
He struggled closer,
He stabs her once and she goes down. It is a clean cut, befalling her in the chest, the blade slipping right between her ribs and into her heart.
Then he stole her.
He takes the moment to tie her, moving quickly, as she will regenerate soon.
Violet wrists and then her ankles.
Her wrists and ankles bruise a vibrant purplish-violet.
Silently, she regenerates from what must've been a painful death. The blade's slipping out of her back and the blood rushing back to the wound, as though someone rewound time.
Silent pain.
She's not gagged but says nothing. Nothing, as he screams at her, cries to her…
Hurts her.
This is nothing to him—nothing to her.
Then he slowly saw their nightmares were his dreams.
But, he soon realizes that he's turning into a vision of Fermet.
A dream of his once-upon-a-time captor.
His own personal demon, the skeleton in his closet.
The most terrifying beast of his past.
Monster.
How should I feel?
Creatures lie here.
Looking through the windows.
Trembling, he cuts her bonds, bringing the delicate girl into his arms. She's unconscious, which he can only describe as a good thing.
Less tears all around that way. Less guilt.
I will.
Hear their voices.
I'm a glass child.
I am Hannah's regrets.
"Czeslaw…" Her honey sweet voice is ragged, full of the pain he's inflicted on her.
He can't but to brush her long hair out of her face. He feels so fragile, so lost. He broke his promise. He broke her. Broke his glass-spun maiden…
Monster.
She heals, shaking like a leaf as she forces herself to her feet. Taking his hand in hers, she leads him back to her room, back to her bed.
How should I feel?
He expects her to cry, to rage at him for breaking an oath, just as he raged at her.
He doesn't know how to respond when she simply kisses him, hushing apologies that die in his throat the moment she takes off her ruined clothes. Turn the sheets down,
Murder ears with pillow lace.
In those moments, they both lose an irreplaceable thing. Neither of them caring enough to mourn the loss of their fictitious innocence.
It's enough to state the hunger of both. That craving to have more of the other than society deems acceptable.
It's a depraved, horrible sort of revenge, equally reaped on both of their terms.
The loosest, yet most fitting definition of sex's other name. Perverse, as it is, they both agree that it's not just fucking.
It's love making.
There's bathtubs,
Full of glow flies.
"C-Czes?" Her voice quavers in the afterglow, and he congratulates himself on being able to give her some pleasure, at least.
She did bleed, and though she will not be sore long, he knows that it hurt her. They inadvertently trades memories while in the act, neither of them knowing that it was a derivative of their actions.
Neither of them thought it would be.
"I…" Alice falters, and he takes her hand. "I want to understand."
Bathe in kerosene.
His eyes widen, large and brown and staring fearfully. He knows what she means. He knows all too well…
"We must test the limits of our new-found immortality." It sounded like a lame excuse to both parties, but only one protested.
The other couldn't have cared less, tuning out the young boy's screams. He listened only to the crackle of the fire as it caught in chestnut brown hair…
Rooted to the spot, he watches.
And he's powerless to stop her as she lights the match.
Their words tattooed in his veins.
Her screams still reverberate on the inside of Czes's skull, even after the ordeal is over and she lays with him. The images of her being consumed as the Kerosene blazed on her bare flesh…
The heat of the fire as he put her, frantically attempting to douse the flames…
It lives forever under his skin, side by side with her cries of pain…
Yeah…