Pierced and Torn
-1-
She pulled on her midnight blue leather boots. Her favorite ones with the silver buckles and the three-inch heels. The buttons reached to about her knees, helping, in her mind, her sex appeal blossom.
She stood from the edge of her bed, wearing a white lacy tank top and a messy hair tie holding her pure white locks. She was always envious of others with normal colored hair. But she was far from normal. Normal was something she strived to accomplish, but failed at every attempt. The white blouse hugged her body, exposing her womanly curves, adding to her sexiness. She wore black spandex under-where positioned on her pelvic areas. She always wore them in plain view, showing off the area between knees and hips. She wasn't ashamed of her legs. She loved them as a matter of fact.
She paced her messy room, leaving scattered clothes here and there, not caring if it looked untidy. No one was visiting her soon. She was alone. And damned to be forever alone.
Her search for her signature jacket was on. The garment that matched the boots held six silver buttons on the front middle, placed to make a rectangular shape. The V-neck style cut just at the start of the end of her cleavage. A silver chain hung from the end of the collar, caressing her left breast. At the bottom, the jacket fanned out carnival style. Jagged, pointed spikes protruded outwards. Silver lined the entire attire. The top held a nice collar style and two tine black faux wings on the back neck. Her favorite in the world.
She looked around her bed, in the closet, bathroom, living, and back to her room.
She started to get pissed. The jacket was nowhere to be found. She had it last night. What had she done with it? Come to think of it, what did she even do last night? She stopped mid-pace to ponder. She searched her brain for answers. She couldn't recall what had happened.
Then she saw it. Splattered blood on the bland tan carpeting. It wasn't a surprise to find blood in her room. Blood was everywhere in her life. She caused blood to splatter the way it had on her floor for many years.
But it still triggered her stomach to roll. She walked over the stain, attempting to ignore her feelings and thoughts; acting as though it was an everyday event-and it was-and passed it in her mind. That was her life, her decisions. She had to live with it one way or another. The hard or easy. Once again, she chose the easy. Which, consequently, always turned out to be the hardest the experienced.
Being a Kindred was nothing easy. Killing came with the job. In fact, it was a requirement.
She had no past that she knew of. She awoke alone every morning ever since she was the age of five. By that age-the start of her knew life-she was gifted with a journal. A brown leather one that seemed to be ancient. There wasn't anyone near to help her read the message written inside, so, through years of struggling, she learned the basics of literature by herself. And by the age of eight, she was able to decipher the letter:
Dear Kendrix,
I'm sorry to say that we can't tell you much, but we can leave you with this: We love you. Never forget that our little Kindred.
Love,
Mom & Dad
The letter was short and simple and didn't hold much. There were many questions unanswered. She assumed that Kendrix was her name. But there was one word she didn't understand: Kindred. She obeyed her curiosity and did some research. What she found amazed her.
It was told as a legend or an old folklore. But, something inside her knew that the story was one-hundred percent true. The Kindred was the first race to be created out of pure love. It started with a goddess named Shylia sometime around the beginning of time. She traveled to Earth one day and absently fell in love with a mere mortal, Herghavid. They were what seemed to be the perfect couple.
As a goddess, she was immortal. Though, her lover was in the grasp of death. She did what anyone in her position would do for the one they deeply cared for, the Mythic Embrace. A dark, drastic, dangerous spell binding action. It was risky, but she was unwilling to let Herghavid die.
The Mythic Embrace called for two people: a god-like relic and a simple human. The goddess had to infuse her blood, which contained the essence of life, into the blood of Herghavid's, resulting in his gift of everlasting life.
The process wasn't that pleasing though. For exactly six weeks, the one receiving the mixture of blood went through unbearable pain and suffering. Shylia could only sit by and watch as Herghavid thrashed and churned, purged and spewed. The procedure froze the inner mechanisms of the human body. The blood stream, the DNA, the nervous system, the cells. Everything underwent the terrible change.
But, it was worth it in the end. Once the operation was over and done with, the two immortals created something beautiful yet annihilative. The first Kindred. The blood infused body of the nobleman had caused the blood in the offspring to carry a craving personality.
The Kindred inherited the characteristics of her ancestors. She received sensitivity, was delicate, and had the will to make great sacrifices for love. Though, once the child was born, she-
And that was it. The rest of the knowledge had disappeared. As though it was diminished in a destructive blaze. The whereabouts, name, or any other information on the Kindred wasn't listed.
Nothing really helped her with her situation. All she knew was that she was destined to kill, destined to crave the blood of her enemies, destined to follow the moon.
Night was her calling. Day was her enemy. She didn't quite understand why, it was just instinct. She questioned it plenty of times, yet no answered pleased her ears. And she never dared try to go about in day. She wasn't quite sure what was to come of her if she did. Death lingered around the corner of the sun. Well, for all she knew.
Though, what she did at night wasn't anything like picking pansies or selling ribbons. No. Never in her life would she even think of those occupations. She was a killer. She was a manipulative, conniving, blood-crazed killer. Blood was a normal sight to her.
But don't get the wrong idea. She didn't just kill anyone. Ones that deserved to die; people that rubbed against her or her loved ones-the few she loved anyways-a wrong way. Being a Kindred was curse. And ironic curse that was inflicted upon her. In old folklore, she discovered that "kindred" was a legendary spirit. The Kindred Spirit. If one was to look it up, one would find that a Kindred Spirit was literally your soul mate. A person that shared every thought you did, felt the same, and had pretty much everything in common with you.
She laughed at the information. Not once had she come close to finding her soul mate, much less someone who shared anything close to common with her. Her kind was just a funny joke. Something for God to sit back, point and make fun of. It often depressed her to think it. She wouldn't mind falling in love, having someone to hold, someone to support her all the way through, someone to not judge her. But men were intimidated by her. That's what she told herself. A false hope.
She had flipped the whole house upside down, still with no luck. All of a sudden, she noticed a dark blue hint sliding out the bottom of her bed. A midnight blue. She knelt down, picked it up, and was immediately filled with relief now holding her beloved jacket.
She slipped it on, feeling more comfortable than ever. That was her trademark. She wasn't really herself with out it.
She stood and headed for the bathroom. The mounds of clothes seemed to grow with every passing second. Once entered, she turned toward the mirror. Her image was always on her mind, but never what she was doing. She rarely put on any make-up; her natural beauty radiant, doing it's job. He skin was the right shade of tan and olive. Her face was round yet thin. She didn't contain any blemishes. Her eyes were a simple slit; both intriguing and sexy. Just what she liked. They were a grey color-almost shining and illuminant. Her bangs cut right at the peak of her brows. At the edges of her bangs, longer locks drooped downwards to caress her cheeks as though her face was the painting and her hair was the frame.
Her body was…perfect. In every way possible. She admired herself. She did this often. She knew many would call her vain, but she liked to think otherwise. Enjoying ones body wasn't a sin. It wasn't wrong to take pride in ones looks.
The birth marked tattoo reaching out from the right side of her neck to mid-cheek. It was a bundle of swirls and curls. Elegant. The hue was a shade lighter that her natural skin tone. At first glance, you would never notice. But when the light was right, and her angle was positioned correctly, it was hard to miss. It was beautiful, and she knew it. Though she never knew what the point of it was, or how she had received it, she was still delighted to own such a graceful print.
She was ready. The moon was high in the sky, casting a silver glow about the earth. The space above was that midnight blue that matched her jacket and boots. Stars twinkled and shot around, frantic for the night passion. She could hear the wolves howl-praise the moon-through her window.
She walked out her restroom, through her room, living room, then kitchen. Every detail of her quarters was dark. She enjoyed the dark. It was homed in her heart. She didn't bother with decorations or fawned over the interior design. It was a bland home for a stimulating heart.
The kitchen held her most prized possession-after her jacket. Her bow. Crafted in pure silver and elegantly gorgeous. It was her weapon. The only lover she could harbor. Embroidered on the front in pitch black scripted letters was "Kendrix"; her name. She ran her finger delicately over the insignia. Her name had a certain affect over her. She felt a specific connection to it she couldn't quite explain. Her name was her identity, and it was doing it's job.
How she had receive the name was a complete mystery. She assumed her parents must of gifted her with such a power. Though, being a Kindred, she was bound to live a life with not a single known family member. Her parents were unknown; her grandparents might have never existed; any siblings were erased away, leaving nothing but rubber lent. For all she know, and all she experienced, she was brutally alone in the world. She didn't mind...much.
After admiring her weapon, she slug the arrow case around her shoulder and held her bow tightly. She steered toward the front door and exited her dwelling. She trudged through her yard, picked up her pace, and thrust her body into a full run into the reaching limbs of the forest.
The moon above was shielded by darkened clouds. Beams of light found their escape through vulnerable holes in the shadows. Their was just enough light to see clearly. Though, she didn't need much help to see in the dark. Her Kindred eyesight was a gift. In the night, the black pupils stretched from top to bottom, creation a cat-eye effect. She grew quite fond of her eyes. They were sculpted beautifully.
The moist foliage acted as a protective blanket. No human could see her. Not even if she stood directly two feet in front of them. She was noticeably invisible.
Kendrix turned to the powerful trunk to her right. With the swiftest movement, she ascended the tree. Perched on a overhanging branch, she listened. A breeze blew her now illuminating silver strands. She was a pure image. She closed her eyes. Focused on the silence. Expecting to inevitable.
She was reluctant to hear a shriek. She had to admit, it startled her a bit. But with the startle came the adrenaline. And with the adrenaline came the despair. Her tattoo-birthmark startle to lightly glow. This was a sign of her excitement; of her fear.
Another scream. She recognized it as a woman. She jerked her head toward the sounds whereabouts. She was set. Ready to go. Ready to kill. She leaped.
From one branch to the other, she moved through the forest with great ease. She could dodge any obstacle. She was a pro.
An owl hooted. She sensed a wolf prowl about the woodland. She frightened birds away from nests, sending a swarm of wings into the night above. The chance was coming. The animal insider her was breaking free.
A Kindred lived off of ones misery. The thrived to see the blood shed of their enemies. Killing was merely an understatement. She tortured. And she was ready for her next victim. She yet longed to share her victories with another. Sadly, she was the only Kindred she knew about. For all she knew, she could be the only one on the planet.
Her hearing was impeccable. The screeching must have been about two miles into the forest. Though, it still didn't take her long to reach the source. Her speed was also astounding. Vines and limbs didn't stand a chance against her.
She reached the torture sight. She rested atop a thick branch. She loomed over the two figures below. There was both a man and a woman present. She was correct-the screaming did come from the woman. She could see the resentment between the two. Mainly the woman against the man. He had pinned her along the trunk of the tree she stood upon. He was obviously overpowering her. She was noticeably inferior. She struggled against his force.
He brushed his hand up her leg. She was wearing a simple torn white dress; easy access. Kendrix could see the sparkle of tears spill down the woman's cheeks. The man ceased the motion and moved his hand toward the sealed opening of his pants. The unbuttoned then unzipped. Then, with a quick happening, he punctured her with great aggression.
The scene caused her nostrils to flare. Her tattoo-birthmark started to burn with hate.
This was just the thing she lived for. Those creeps out there in the world-like the man below-deserved to die. She had the whole plan devised in her head already. She was going to attack lightly, leave in him in pain, and take him home for a little enjoyment. Some torture. Something to show how it really felt; a taste of his own medicine if you will. Then, after all the fun, she would end it. The part she loved yet hated the most. It was a battle of emotions. A clash of red and blue through the the body her soul possessed.
Now to put the run through in motion.
She piped up. "Hey!"
They both looked up on awe. The moon had shifted into complete view behind her silhouette. The light provided cast such an intriguing glow behind Kendrix that caused her to look as though she was some sort of goddess, when in reality, she was the complete opposite.
The man spoke. "Can I help you?" His attitude didn't help with the occasion. She was eager to end his life now. The bastard.
"Why don't you leave that poor creature alone?"
"Because you say so?"
"Exactly." Her tone was soft. Calm. There was no hint of silliness.
She reached back into the casket harboring her arrows, loaded her bow, and sprung off the wood toward the man. She had her eyes locked. There was no missing him.
Then, as though God himself had poofed him away from Earth, he was gone. Her eyes widened. She let out a little, "Wha..?"
Her reflexes were quick. She was able to flip her body around, landing on her feet. The woman-blonde haired with dirt stains here and there and eyes red from tears-still stood by the tree. Her face was filled with terror.
After landing firmly on the ground, she jolted her head around in search for the missing perpetrator. She spotted him about three trees away. She expected just him, but he wasn't alone. A figure stood in front of him, pinning the man against the bark. She couldn't make out any details, just that he was visibly overpowering. The man happened to take the woman's place.
She stood there aghast. Who did this person think they were taking her prey away from her? This was her moment to shine. And they took what she both loathed and relished away from her.
She could hear voices and tried to make them out. They were unclear but still understandable.
"You fucker! How dare you take advantage of that fragile creature?"
Kendrix could make out a rough ragged voice, indicating the shadow was a man. She turned to see the woman's expression once more, but she was gone. She had taken off into the night, taking her chances against the forest. Her pathway was clearly noticeable.
She turned to see the shadowed figure toss the man aside. The man laid there, vulnerable. The shape took out a luminescent silver gun from his side pocket. The moon found a peak in the sky. Any thing hidden by darkness was now exposed by the moon's rays. The details were all clear now.
The figure was, as she had expected, a man. His hair was as if it were constructed from a raven's feather; pitch black with a hint of blue. His face was, without a doubt, perfect. The bones chiseled to make a rugged square shape that made him look mature and tough, but at the same time soft and emotional. His eyes were violet orbs, seeming as though they could replace a crystal ball. As though they could help see the future. As though they were magic themselves. He wore a white tunic that shaped his torso quite well. Along his face, she noticed a series of marks and designs matching the ones she held herself. He was, without a doubt, a Kindred.
She had never seen another of her kind before. And to see one standing majestically in front of her made her feel somewhat whole.
He looked over to her; their eyes locking. Space and time seemed to freeze and weld together such a connection that felt as though it was the diamond of unification; indestructible and immortal. A sudden hope arose inside her that drew her even closer to the other Kindred.
Abruptly, her tattoo-birthmark burn with such pleasure. She had to grip the ground under her to secure her conscience.
He broke the gaze, turned toward the culprit and headed his way. The gun had lowered during the stare, but he once again rose it, and pointed it straight in between his eyes. One slow step at a time, he gradually made his way to the man on the ground. He spoke: "You're a sick bastard who deserves to die."
She didn't move. Listening to the quiet pleads from the man on the ground, she watched as the Kindred let the bullet free, letting all the pressure and anxiety held up in the shaft of the weapon go. The shot filled the forest. Flocks of birds flew every-which-where. Pitter-patter from the frightened animals were also present. Then, it was as though she were watching an exploding mirror, as though she were witnessing a reddened snow, as though autumn had taken over, causing leaves to turn to flesh and sway downwards, the bullet settled in the man's skull. The montage of blood, bone shards, marrow, and integument gently settled on the forest floor. He barely had time to breathe his last breath; it was over.
Watching the man die gave Kendrix a little gratitude. She felt the guy really did get what was coming. Payback had been payed. She couldn't help but let out a small giggle and a smirk.
The Kindred turned to her with a striking jerk. His tattoo glowed this time now and his violet eyes went orange with fury. Or passion. Or joy. She didn't know how he felt at this time.
She stood, holding the look. Her bow, which she laid on the ground beside her, stayed where it was. She was weaponless approaching a stranger. Though, "stranger" didn't fit him. He was no stranger. He was the same as her-well, from what she'd seen.
She took one step forward. His birthmark flared. She was hesitant, but she tried to make conversation.
"Who are you?"
He looked down. She could see his knuckles whiten as he gripped the gun tighter. She took another step forward; he stepped back.
"You're a Kindred, aren't you?" she pushed. She craved answers from him.
He spoke, his voice carrying the same tone and feeling as before: "Leave."
Her jaw dropped a bit. Leave? Why?
"But-"
"Go. Now." It was flat and emotionless. She dared to take a few more steps, purposely ignoring his commands.
"I'm not leaving. We're the same." He didn't move this time. Instead, he packed his gun back into it's pocket and lifted his head to look at the welcoming midnight sky.
She was about two full feet away from him now. She examined the details more closely. The tunic was pretty simple, except for the shimmering gold lining and the accented designs that were just a shade lighter than the original coloring. The handle of the gun stuck out of the pocket. She noticed something sculpted into it. Words. A name. Maddox.
Then, she took a chance; she reached out to touch him. She was surprised to see that he didn't budge. She continued with the contact.
Flesh and flesh. It was as though she was observing a star-fueled for life by the burning of their own hydrogen and passion-expire, explode and create the gorgeous stellar remains. The burst stretched through all of humanity, space, and dimensions and created such a powerful feeling inside of the both of them. And like never before, Kendrix's tattoo-birthmark glowed with such iridescence she was blinded. The feeling was like no other; pleasurable and painful.
Then, as quickly as it came, the exquisite stellar remains were absorbed into an all fearing spiraling black hole. A sign that the attachment was diminished. Gone.
Maddox had broken the link and ran off with out a word. By this time, Kendrix was awe struck and barely conscience. She had somehow lowered and was propped on hands and knees. The experience had made her weak.
And just like before, she was alone in the foliage, the shadows and mildewy fog overlapping her body.
Author's Note: Man, this is probably my longest story yet. Wait, it is! I spent a lot of time going through and editing and there's probably still some errors in it D:
I just want to take this time to thank my friend Sam (SummonerYuki) for being my "beta reader"/editor. You were a great help with this story :) Her email is cocopuffsgirl at sbcglobal. net. I have to write it all weird-like due to issues on FanFic :/
Also, check out my friend Ashley (Midnight's Sky). Her stories are outstanding in ever way possible.
I would greatly appreciate your thoughts and views on this selection. I plan on continuing, of course, but I would like to hear what I should change or clear up.
Thank you for reading :)
-Levi