Taste

Robin's tedious contemplation is thusly ended.

Rated PG13

Disclaimer: NatashaTeenTitan, returning to her rightful post as fanfic freak-master.

Taste

The sink runs in unison with the shower, filling the room with the roar of pounding water and a strong, lulling mist. I watch the steam rise to the ceiling and fade into an indistinguishable fog, a study the tiny raindrops casting miniature rainbows over the walls. Water in the air clings to the bathroom mirror, shimmering like tears as I slowly pull off my gloves. I study my clothing, turning it over in my hands, feeling the stretchy fabric, scarred in so many places after countless battles… stitched rough in several places, the chest and legs in particular. My gloves are worn at the palm; the fingertips have been rubbed open.

Abuse.

I throw my clothing violently through the floor, kick it, mash it into the linoleum with my heel, snarling. With alien hate, I rip my mask from my face, take the razor, and shred it… shred it, shred it, until it is nothing but a mass of white and black powder between my fingertips. Broken, like me, purposefully torn to bits until there is nothing left to ruin.

Hatred.

I let the pieces run down the drain, I watch as the last of it disappears in a flurry of water. The steam from the shower rolls down my bare neck, over my lips, which I lick. I can taste the blood of thousands; I moan with pleasure. I study the razor, frown, and break it. The handle snaps easily, rendering it useless. I throw it across the room, it does nothing for me.

Aimlessness.

She lied to me. It was one thing to be uncertain, but she had lied like the two-faced monster that she is. She hides it between false smiles and quick-draw emotions that spin you around and around, but she's just a foul, strange temptress, boorish in her demands until they are met, and then she is displeased all over again. She twisted me and shoved me into the dark, and I foolishly believed she would bring me back. She hadn't.

Betrayal.

My palms are pressed to the cold, smooth marble of the bathroom counter. My hair lies flat over my face, soaked from the heated fog. The bath is overflowing; I pay no heed. I grit my teeth, feeling cold even in the warmth. What is it to me, to escape from second-classhood only to be the single fist supporting a gawking group of morons? What good is it to be a leader when you're as blind as your followers?

Disgust.

It is unfair to them. To lead them into darker shadows, deeper waters, simply because you yourself are unsure of you're path… it's an unspeakable crime. My hand holds their blood, the blood of innocents, because I'm a foolish child and nothing more. And oh, how I love the taste of blood.

Guilt.

Is it wrong to fall in love with the liquid of life that flows in every sentient's veins? Is it wrong to taste it every time you taste something else? Is it wrong to dream of it, to imagine yourself drinking to your fill until you turn into a bloated, blood-sucking beast? Is it wrong to look at someone and imagine the warm, crimson blood creeping beneath their flushed skin, to wonder how it would taste on your tongue, like seductive scarlet velvet?

Lust.

And that is what drives me.

Abuse.

I kneel down.

Hatred.

I open the cupboard.

Aimlessness.

I draw a new razor.

Betrayal.

I stand again.

Disgust.

I draw it over my wrist, swift, firm.

Guilt.

The blood runs down the drain, vanishing in the hazy mist, into a blind fog that is not from the water. Again and again… I can taste it in the air, just mine, and I do drink until I have had my fill. The roaring of the shower does not outweigh the pounding in my ears.

Lust.

And oh, how I love the taste of blood.

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Author's Notes: Hmm. I've changed, haven't I? Oh well. Teen Titans always a bit too 2-D. You can hate it or you can love it, just don't flame like an idiot. Give me some constructive criticism, or at least tell me why you hate it. If you love it, good for you. Tell me why.

Yes, this is NatashaTeenTitan. I was here about a year ago, but I left. Teen Titans is no longer my major fandom. If you remember me, good for you.