Blaine likes to sing.
Blaine likes the rush of emotions that simmer in his chest with every rough pluck on a guitar, or smooth caress on the keys of a piano. Blaine loves the sinewy notes that float in the air as he strains his voice to reach each muffled emotion, each hidden wish.
But nothing satisfies Blaine's hunger more than the high-pitched shriek of a dying victim.
They were watching a crime show that fateful day. Blaine just turned thirteen. His dad sat on the plush leather couch they had wordlessly labeled his, Shane was upstairs, holed up in his room, and his mom was in the kitchen.
A man was robbing a young-looking woman. She refused to surrender her purse. The man took out a long, stainless knife that shone ominously under the lamp post. He brought it up above his head. And then he struck her, repeatedly, viciously.
And then Blaine heard it. The scratched cries full of overwhelming terror, clawing its way up her throat desperately. The endless stream of tired screeches forcing its way into the bloodied air, expanding till it faded and more were produced. The look of sheer fright on her white-as-a-ghost face delicately complimented the terrified screams escaping her purple lips.
It was a song.
And Blaine was entranced.
Big golden-brown eyes watched with morbid fascination as tainted metal rose and fell to embed itself into the woman's chest, her arm, her shoulder. Her voice was turning hoarse, a dying ember in the lively flames of Blaine's insatiable musical fixation. The sound of pointed blade meeting flesh resounded against her frightened cries. Blaine hadn't realized he had closed his eyes, ears straining to memorize each bloodcurdling octave.
It was the best form of music Blaine has ever heard.
As Blaine tightened his lithe fingers around the knife's handle, he shuddered visibly. It sounded even better up close.
But Blaine didn't understand why this boy was fighting back. He just wanted to hear the boy's song. It was exquisite. Why didn't the boy want him to hear his song? Blaine wished he could sing like that.
After all, Blaine just likes to sing.