He cut her wrist with a quick slice, and she gasped as droplets of blood made their way to the surface. He smiled as he licked them off slowly. He felt her shudder beneath him making their game all the more fun. No it wasn't their game anymore, only his. He sucked on her neck gently, before biting down relishing in her shriek. He muffled it by placing the dark fabric of his cloak over her mouth. Her breathing calmed, and he heard it get shallower. How tight was he holding the cloak with its bright red clouds over her mouth? How much longer could he hold it like this? For she never struggled. Not anymore.
She might have struggled if Sasuke were still alive. Might have cried out to be saved. But he was dead. And she could very well join him. Now, if she wished it. No. Now if he wished it. He looked upon her half naked frame, noting the thin white scars adorning it. Every inch. The moonlight cast from the window illuminated them. He knew she could heal them quickly, and with ease, so why didn't she? And all the new, fresh cuts he had just recently made, would she add them to her collection? He mused on this wondering how their game had started. It was most certainly after Sasuke's death. When he had found her crying over his grave. His vision was slowly fading, but he could see some color. Ironically red, the color of blood and that of the flowers she had placed there. He couldn't help but laugh. And that's when she turned. He learned then he could see one last color. Green. The same shade as her eyes. Which he noted, now looking down, were dimming.
Did he care? No. When the game had started, he had. When she had whispered for him to take the pain away, as she clung to him. He cared. When they were tangled together, limbs entwined. Clawing, biting, breathing, and bleeding. He cared. When she cried out. He never knew he could care so much, until she had cried out his name. That of his brother. And then he no longer cared. He realized he never would. The game had continued. He feared it always would. But then tonight came, and he knew their had to be a winner and a loser tonight.
Those damn scars. He moved his cloak at last, allowing her to breathe. He could tell by her gasping breath and the way her eyes glistened that the air had burned. Good. He looked into her eyes again, and was surprised not only to see the tears still flowing. But how disappointed, how accusatory her glare was. Then he realized.
"Oh. You had wanted to die." It was a statement, not a question he whispered. She stayed still. "Those scars. Why not heal yourself? Why keep them there?"
He knew he hoped. He hoped she kept them for him. To remind her of him. Oh god, how he hoped in the span of those few seconds. And his breath caught when she replied.
"To remind me what I am. A monster."
His cut was quick, clean. The kunai sliced through the skin of her neck. He could see so much red, but no more green. He dropped the knife and held her, feeling the life slip away, staining the floor taking his hope with it. He had not expected this. He thought he would win this game. Her broken smile told him differently.