Marmalade: Song fic -
(Original Song: Marmalade by System Of A Down)
I'm sitting in a room. With her. Naturally. It's hot, but there's a breeze. And we sit there, forever, the tension over-bearing. My perfect woman. Myself. The conclusion? Not as happy as you might hope. Because this is the moment when my dream turns into a nightmare. Without being able to control myself, I stand up and walk over to her. Grabbing her arm viciously, I hoist her up, and guide her strongly through the corridor to the next room. I am calling out to myself, but cannot seem to stop. My heart races. I would not do this to the woman I love. But I do. In my nightmare, I do. She stares at me, perplexed, as if to say 'What are you doing?', but I ignore her. I hit her now, and she falls.
Stretching, Filing,
Against her skin,
Her deep, beautiful eyes stare deep into the pit of my soul and she looks at me with an inexpressible horror. 'Why did you do that?' she seems to scream. 'Why?'. And in my nightmare, she knows the answer. She moves away, upset.
"It's because I'm a muggle-born, isn't it?"
Blessed are those,
Who are not kin,
I want to say no but I can't. If only she knew how I wished I was a muggle-born, half-blood, anything but a pure-blood. But the nightmare goes on. There's a beat now. In the back of my mind. I hear the drums. They're pulsing heavily, and my brain feels like it's going to implode. I push her back against the bed and I swear she knows what I'm going to do. A flash of terror across her face ad she suddenly squirms away. She screams once more as the ropes pull tight around her wrists and ankles.
In sin we breathe,
In sex we tie,
Duct tape her legs,
To the red sky
I can't stop, and the drums are louder. Thudding in the back of my mind. It drives me crazy what I'm doing but I can't stop. It's hellish, and I'm screaming for some one, anyone to come and save me. But no one hears me. No one can hear me. And the nightmare must go on. I move over her, demanding what I should not even be asking for. And she's screaming. And I can't stop. And the drum beat goes on. And on. And on. And on.
Foolsome flesh allowances,
The pansies raided the pantry of,
Gabardine dreams, promiscuous,
Delight, deny not the flavour,
And it won't end. It won't stop. She's crying, shrieking, squealing, begging for me to stop, to leave her be but I won't. I can't. And it's killing me. It goes on. Still. And the worst thing is, I'm getting pleasure from this. In some sadistical way I'm enjoying this. It's so wrong but it feels just so good I can't stop myself. And it's at her expense. It hit her some more as she tries to get away. I beat her. It kills me.
Custard dreams,
Abusing, musing,
Marmalade flesh
Naked spread am I, am I
It kills me. Metaphorically. All these things I hate revolve around me.
But then she finally pulls free of the ropes, and tries to run manically and desperately for somewhere, anywhere to hide, but I've locked the doors shut tight. She has no escape. She struggles frantically; she knows she must get away.
Actors of the tragic phantoms,
Extend your legs for great Saturn,
Brown table tops scream for cover,
At the sight of your new lover,
Her deep brunette locks fly as she shakes me off, but eventually I clasp her again. Blood is everywhere. It's horrific – I almost gag as I watch it trickle slowly and seductively down her. I want to kill myself but I can't seem to tear away. I want to kill her too; to feel my hands around her throat as she draws her last breath. It's a good idea, but I shrink away from it as I can tell that my darker side it taking over.
If today I die,
And can't deny,
The Poison Chosen
For tonight,
Tonight.
I wake suddenly from my vast and uncannily realistic nightmare. Sweat trickles down my forehead as I slowly sit up, releasing myself from the terror of what I just witnessed. I loathe myself. I am sure of that. I put on a shirt and pair of trousers and step out of my room, just to check she's still there, and I am relieved when I see that my mudlood love is still sitting, waiting for some penalty to be put upon her by my disgusting parents who have taken her captive. I walk up to her and sit opposite her. She ignores me as best she can and so I move next to her.
She looks at me.
I look at her.
And then she stands on my heart. With shiny, black, stiletto heels.
She opens up and tells me everything. It's rich. How much she loathes me. How much she despises me and my pureblood family.
And now it's happening again. I scream at her, she screams at me. I grab her by the arm and force her into my room. I push her back onto the bed with a maliciousness only seen by myself in my nightmares. And it's happening again. Just this time it isn't a dream, and this time I want her to suffer. Because she's always hated me and everything about me, even now I love her. And she won't even let me tell her how I feel. She tries to get up and I hit her back, giving her what will be a horrendous bruise. She looks scared; I like it, and the darkness inside of me continues.
Borrowed dreams,
Hollowed reveries,
Metal pillows,
Pewter yellows,
I fall on her and ensure I take in every bit of her flesh I can – I no longer care for her like I did before. I hate her. All these thing I hate revolve around her now. I don't care how much I hurt her – I just know I will.
Furry roadkill,
House on the hill,
Pouring gravy,
On her thighs still,
Her clothes are in tatters and she's screaming, screaming again just like in my dreams. She uses anything nearby against me – a lamp, a pile of books, a knife. I screech in pain whilst the blood pours everywhere – the bed is covered and I feel faint. I know she's hurt me badly – my shirt is drenched, but I don't care where she's stabbed me. Not now. My heart has already been ripped out.
If today I die,
And can't deny,
My hands clasp around her as we seem to struggle eternally – I'm weakened and I feel that she's getting away. I place my hands firmly around her neck and her breathing quickens. Our hearts are beating in sync as I squeeze. Deeply and hard, I squeeze. She chokes and gasps for air, and tries to whisper something to me, but I won't listen. She didn't listen to me. She rejected me. I can feel her getting weaker now and a deep feeling of pleasure surges over me as she falls limply against the bed. I pause, and wait for something to happen. But nothing does. Yet. She's still beautiful, lying peacefully now amongst the blood. They'll just assume it was murder – no one will know it was ever a crime of passion. 'But it's over now,' I tell myself. But it's not. I feel something trickles down my front and remember suddenly she stabbed me. Feeling around for the wound, I stare down at my chest to see the damage but my sight has blurred, I can't see. There are just red patches everywhere, and the outline of her delicate figure, but this is it. I feel ever more faint, and it takes me a second to realize what this means. I try to call out but only hear a whisper.
My eyes look their last.
My fingers touch their last.
My heart beats its last as I fall on my love.
If today I die,
And can't deny,
The poison chosen,
For tonight,
Tonight