The content below reflects on some issues that some might find bothersome, uncomfortable, and/or disturbing.
Warning: Yes, this chapter can be considered graphic for some. Read at your own risk.
He glanced from me to her, then back again before moving away from the table. I continued watching him, a promise within my eyes that I will make sure he suffers unbearably before he is killed. The human body, at least for males, tends to lack proper performance when frightened. Now came another test: would he rise to the occasion, as it were, or not? He was not completely sober, not yet; I could tell this by the way he moved lethargically to her prone form. Listening to the sounds around her she began to choke on another sob, hearing as well as sensing him nearby. She refused to look upon him. Unfortunate, that. She would have seen the fear on his face as well as the tears growing within his eyes. Perhaps he did not mean to do what he had. My mind briefly wandered, trying to figure out what caused him to do such a thing. A relationship gone wrong? Drunk, drugged, perhaps both? So many possibilities. That train of thought did not last long.
"Just get it over with." The words were stated through gritted teeth and she turned her head away to be looking elsewhere should she open her eyes. That hope of hers was still there, that he would move away and turn himself in to the authorities. That would not be the case, it seemed. I moved my eyes from the back of his head down to his forward-angling arm. The arm shook slowly back and forth as he stroked himself to hardness. It would take time; it's a good thing I am a very patient individual. Stepping up between her spread thighs, he cast another glance toward me, flinching when he noticed the trail of my tongue's tip down the long length of a canine. Safe to say, I was doing well in keeping my forcing of the fear of God ... subtle.
When he placed his hand upon her hip she stiffened, stifling a cry. Her hands tightened, her knuckles becoming white. The whole time I watched quietly, collecting and cataloging everything that passed my sight as well as my ears. Moving around to the side of the table I settled down upon it, facing the two. After crossing my legs and resting an elbow to one, I propped my chin in my hand and let them both feel my abject attention. A sheen of sweat rested upon both of their bodies, making their skin glisten beneath the humming lights of the room. I used to use torches in here, though I found that the flickering light did not allow me to view everything I wished to. "It does not look like he wishes to go to jail." I finally spoke, and my words sent her into a wild release of tears. She began murmuring softly. It sounded as if she was pleading with him, trying to get him to change his mind. He glanced to me again and I narrowed my eyes, making him quickly glance back down to her; well, that or the fact that I had a lone talon raking down the side of my face. Her sobbing heightened to a sudden cry as he entered her harshly.
Once again I must elaborate on how humans work, or how they should work. If someone is being attacked, or – in this occasion – taken against one's will by someone who had done so before, they should rightly fear. Their bodies should not respond. Such was not the case here. I am quite sure her little friend found his entry to be rather easy; not only from my earlier manipulations, but from the natural responses of the female's body. And he.. he should rightly fear that he might not leave this room alive, yet he groaned and growled with each thrust. It was as if I was no longer within the room.
Soon enough her reactions became visible, and she slightly began bucking up toward her near-silent rapist. This brought my brow to rise and consider a few things. Often she would speak of being taken, as I mentioned before, past the limits of both pain and pleasure. Such sensation would mock what she was currently feeling. Did she enjoy it when this man lay upon her within the underground parking lot? Could it be possible that she went down in that area on purpose, especially after hearing that two other women were accosted? At first I thought it was stupidity. But then I came to realize that it was desperation. Though why would she be desperate? She was a beautiful woman, arousing to even one such as I.
Well, at least the scent of her blood and fear was.
The coupling did not last very long. He was soon slumped over her body, moaning deeply as he spent the last of himself into her sobbing frame. I tsked faintly, shaking my head as I slid off of the table to go over to the two. Crouching down above her head I smoothed my hands against her brow, sliding away the auburn locks from her face and behind her ears with the gentle caress of a lover. Lightly I pressed the cool touch of my lips to her brow then again to her temple before
I spoke in such a way where she could only hear me: "Has your question been answered? You gave him a chance to face what wrong he had done, and he did it again." I paused in my words as a faint wail came to her throat. "He has no remorse. No pity. Tell me, what would you have me do?" The taste of her sweat stung my tongue as I drifted its tip against the side of her jaw, then brought my eyes up to look upon the man that was trying to catch his breath. "Kill him." It took her a few moments to breathe the words out, but she said it once, then again with strength. "Kill him!"
He sobered up quickly then.
Looking down upon her his own rage built, and he struck her a single time; when went to hit her again he found my hand clinging to his arm and yanking it back, nearly snapping it. I began pulling him away and he struggled, but truly he was no match for me. Perhaps if I was still mortal he would have easily gotten away. That was not the case, though, and he was very unfortunate.
His words came out in nothing but vowels as he tried to tear his tongue from the roof of his mouth but found it utterly impossible. While the tongue is the strongest muscle in the body, it could not compare to the grafting a Tzimisce could do if they were determined to keep someone silent. Taking him by his hair I began to drag him over to where the table was and sending a vicious strike to his stomach to rid the air from his lungs, I found it much easier to do what I wished.
I lifted him, and when I did he heard her gasp in the background. Considering my stature compared to that of this man, I should not have been able to do such a thing so easily. Also, I should have not been able to impale the side of his back upon one of the dangling hooks. The sound of a snapping rib nearly brought a smile to my lips.
Nevertheless, she screamed then: "Meuric, no!"
I laughed faintly then reached back, taking up the other hook to ever-so-slowly embed it into his back near his spine. By the way his body began to sweat, and the way he wavered, he was beginning to go into shock. People think that it is wounds that kill people. Not so. The exact number of wounds that have ever killed a person is zero, zilch, none. Wounds do not kill people; shock kills people. If it was not for the fact that a body goes into complete and irreversible shock when it is beheaded, then it would live until the heart did not get enough oxygen to survive. Insects do not go into shock. That is why when a spider's thorax is removed, or you cut off a roaches head, the body continues on. The same with a chicken; cut off its head and allow it to leave the chopping post, and it continues to move. If there was a way to continue the flow of oxygen and blood without the brain then the body would survive. That is next to impossible with humans, all because of that one single defensive mechanism. Shock.
"No, no. Please, God, no! Don't kill him." Ever so calmly I looked back to her, and she shuddered, pressing against the X beam, staring at me. I suppose she then knew that she was not dealing with some normal person.
"You just told me to," I stated calmly, as if speaking to a child. "If you did not want me to, then why did you say it?"
"I... I didn't know you were going to!"
A common defense. People should learn to say what they mean and mean what they say. Then I am sure that the world would be a much better place. That is why I enjoy the Sabbat. You know automatically that someone is going to try to kill you, and thus you are always on your guard. With the Camarilla... well, no. I will not go into that right now.
"You told me to." I restated as I stepped in her direction. It seemed she was now wishing those boards would swallow her whole. There must have been something in the way I looked at her, the way I moved, for a whispered breath of sound came to her lips. "Who are you?" I chuckled again and moved to where the male was once standing then lowered down while sliding my hands up the lengths of her thighs for them to be clasped to her hips.
The way I looked upon her must have made her uncomfortable, especially when I took time to study the mixture of both male and female excretion with a quiet fascination. I then looked up. "Not 'who.' I think 'what' would be a better question." She went to say something else, but it was gone in a sharp gasp and upward arch of her body as my canines sank into her inner thigh. I knew then why she was desperate. The feeding did not last very long, only a moment. Long enough to taste her blood. It was tainted.
I waited long enough for her to climb out of her hysteria while I spat the blood to the floor with a grimace. I knew then I would have to purge my system later that night, or end up having the chance of being a carrier. It was a slim chance, though I rather keep my blood pure.
People went through many forms of acceptance when they are faced with something they believed to be a myth. She chose panic, but then she calmed down enough to a point where I could speak to her. "You would rather have him suffer through a long death, instead of a short one? What makes you better than him in that aspect? Now it is you that is the rapist. Of his life."
One had to know how to play with a mouse, smacking it up against a garage, letting it crawl a bit before smacking it again with a resounding thump. My words hit hard, and she began crying once more. That was answer enough for me and I moved back over to the hanging male.
Mother needed a new face lift anyway.