A.N. This is Chris, BlackFalcon002, whatever you wanna call me. Call me bitch, if that's your fancy. Don't worry, I'm used to it, so there. Anyway, this is an interesting fic that I pulled out of the incessantly raving mass that I proudly call my mind. I'm not so sure about it in this case, though…so review if you think I should just give it up. And it gets much more angsty and suicidal the more you read it.
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Darkness. That seething infinity of ebony oblivion. Is that what you're afraid of? The dark? Because, really, that's not what you should be worried about. Darkness is merely the lack of light. Not really anything to panic about. Because there are things in the dark. Things that can destroy you from the outside. Things that can destroy you from the inside. Things that can destroy both at the same time. And believe me, I should know. I've been to the darkness twice.
And I met those things that live in the darkness. The things you should be scared of. And now you have reason to be scared of me.
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The blade sliced across my wrist, deeper than I should have gone. I hissed through my teeth, tilting my arm so that the blood ran in a vermillion stream into the glass vial situated on the floor. The translucent crystal beaker turned crimson as the flow began to taper off. I watched it hungrily, marveling every drop, until it finally stopped.
Grabbing the roll of bandages from where they were placed next to me where I was kneeling on the floor, I wrapped it around my wrist tightly. The white cloth covered not only the current rip in my ivory skin, but also the past mistakes etched into my flesh, standing out, pearly white and jagged.
Stoppering the vial, I placed it on the table, looking at it. I needed to do this, but I had no idea how long I could keep it up until it wasn't enough. Until they found out.
I sighed, turning away from the crimson temptress with more than just a little effort. And came face-to-face with him. The one who scarred me. The first slash crossing my wrist, now buried under too many to tell them apart, that slash across the vein…and the scar on my neck—all from him. His one visible steely blue eye pierced me. His words reverberated in my mind, never reaching my ears. It wasn't real, I knew. It was just his icon, his way of communicating with his unwilling apprentice. After all, he was already dead.
"Well, well, well," he sneered. "Trying to save yourself? It's not going to work, you know. They'll find out. And can you guess what they're going to do?"
"Shut up and go away!" I snapped. "You died, your tombstone is cracked. Stop being bitchy and leave me alone."
"They're going to be afraid of you."
"They're my friends. They'd never be….well…"
"Don't kid yourself. They may be your friends, but are you theirs? You could easily kill them all, and the monster you are now hunts them. The thing you have become deserves to be feared. Oh, yes, they'd be afraid of you. And you know what happens to those who are feared."
I didn't say anything but a pointed, "You're dead," because I did. I knew what happened to those who were feared. And I'm sure he knew that I did, and behind that curtain of silver hair his eyes were flashing in anticipation of my misery and pain.
"They…will…hate…you," he hissed. "People don't like to be afraid. They don't want to continue living in constant fear, so they will eliminate the source of their fright. That's why," he murmured, leaning in, "that bastard set that…thing on me. He killed me. He was afraid of me."
"Who, Axel? No. He set 'that thing' on you because you're an arrogant prick. Now go away."
"I can't go away," he laughed silkily, "because I'm part of you now."
"No!" I snarled. "You are in no way a part of me!"
"Yes, because I am—"
"No! You're dead!" I yelled, burying my head in my hands. "You're dead! You shouldn't be here, you belong in Hell with your friends!"
He didn't answer, but the two slashed punctures in my neck erupted in pain. I gasped, grabbing my neck reflexively.
Bastard. That's exactly what he wanted me to do. As soon as my fingers brushed against the skin, I became acutely aware of the blood pounding through my body. It pulsed rhythmically beneath my fingers. I swallowed hard, and saw myself in my mind's eye. What I could do now…because I wasn't human.
I saw myself leaping out the window, finding myself approaching someone from behind, grabbing their hair, burying my fangs in their neck, taking in the sweet scent of blood as it overflows in my mouth, spilling over my lips and down my throat—
"NO!"
The room echoed with the piercing scream, and it took me a couple seconds before I realized that it had been me that screamed. I stared up, sweat rolling from my skin. He was gone, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But is cold chuckle reverberated through the room, and I shivered.
"Bastard," I muttered sourly, drawing in a shaky breath. My neck flared in quiet pain again. Much more careful this time around, I felt my neck. The skin was torn, stinging in the open air, and I realized that my nails had gouged into my own flesh. I stared at my hand, the blood on my fingers. And fear curled and settled in my stomach as I watched the russet liquid slide down my arm, tinting the white bandages a deep crimson.
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A.N. Whoohoo! Where do you think I'm taking this one, hmm? Well, it's no good to guess, 'cuz I'm not sure myself. I have a couple different options, and I think I'm going to go with…yeah, that sounds good. Mheheheh. I hope that made you curious. Probably not, but it's a noob's hope. Anyhoo, review and tell me if it's worth continuing, 'cuz I'm unsure myself. It's my first fic like this, so…yeah. And if you can't tell who he is…well, you're stinky. Nyeah. You'll find out later, anyway.