AN: Hello, hello. ^^ This is a prequel to my fanfic, The Darker Side of my Heart. You don't really have to read it to know what's going on, but I would suggest it, since it would make this fic more interesting, seeing as it is focused on an original character. The Darker Side of my Heart is more focused on Vincent, so you might want to detour and read that first. In any case, enjoy the fic!
Darker Still...
Shutter
Red Savior
Burning Down Forever
A Flash, and Blind Sweetness.
The streetlamps were blurred, and the street was darker then it should have been, for all of these damn yellow hanging orbs of light. The light-haired girl was crying as she walked. She never got very far like this. She had sworn to walk away into the night, to travel the dark streets until she found somewhere of light and warmth. Somewhere that glowed with love. She always got a few hours away, then turned back, tired and cold, feet hurting and just wanting to crawl back into her warm bed. Knowing that if she passed out *she* would yell at her for making them come to find her.
~Mother...sometimes the girl feels she doesn't deserve that name.~
Her mother hated her. It seemed like that, at least. This time it was a fight at school. The girl was always getting picked on, and she had learned how to hit from her mother, who was also always hitting her. She had a bruise on her cheek, the boy had hit her first, after she had insulted him. Boys were always rough with her. Maybe it was just something about the way she acted. Trailer trash upbringing coming through the innocence. Leaving it's imprint on pale skin.
~Blueprints to bruises in her future.~
She turned around and started the long walk back home, hoping she made it before the sun rose, and he mom got up for work. Or was tonight a Friday? She couldn't remember. She shrugged, and rubbed her eyes, leaving them red, but dry. She wouldn't cry any more tonight.
* * *
Years later, she would reflect on that night, from years ago, as she sat in the bar of one of the clubs she frequented. She was innocent then. And now... She had left her mother in the dust, when she dropped out of high school in 11th grade. She had woven beween various minimum wage jobs during the day. They would usually last a few months, before her numerous addictions got the better of her, and she stopped going, on the mornings when her head felt like the needles she shot into her arm the night before. A worse pain.
Sometimes she rented a little apartment, dingy, falling apart, roach infested. The landlady knew her. She kept the space open, but thats about all she did. When she couldn't pay the month's rent she ended up on the street, or on a series of couches or futons, in the homes of near-strangers. The night took care of it's own, but always for a price. She found herself sleeping with men she hated. Disgusting, low dealers, who had nothing in their favor but drugs. But that was all she wanted from them.
By night she thought it was all worth it. She thought, through the warmth and color of a good trip, that it didn't matter. In the grey morning, waking up with a hangover and no idea of where she was, she hated herself for the addiction. Hated this life. But she would just sigh, and light another cigarette.
She was watching the people dance on the dance floor. She danced, occasionally, too. But only when asked. She never liked it too much. The press of people, frantic in their passion and demise.. At least here it could be iced over. Here where the music touched, but allowed the people to remain still in their thoughts.
She was staring down at a drink, through a veil of grey smoke, that always reminded her of morning in the city. Some would have said beautiful, but beauty of a tragic kind, pale with her hair dyed black and cut short, spiked up severely. She wore a little too much dark makeup, and too little clothing for the tempature of the club, and the evening outside. Her thoughts were interrupted as she was joined by another.
"Carroll, babe. Thought I'd find you here."
She tossed a gaurded, sultry look over her shoulder at the man. She knew the voice all too well, even before she got a glimpse of that messy red hair. It was dyed the shade of cherries, and fell over his eyes as he grinned broadly. His lips were painted black, and he was wrapped in chains, spikes, and black leather. He was maybe 4 or 5 years older then Carroll, and liked her. Or at least, he liked using her. She didn't really know if there was any difference.
"Judas. What do you want?"
Carroll was always cool around men. Put up the facade of hard-to-get even though it was obvious she was just a slut. It just caused him to grin more, Judas liked a challenge.
"I got something in the other day for you."
She looked at him a bit suspiciously, her deep purple eyes glittering with natural distrust, and need. Mike had come through for her before, but he was too young. Deals fell apart a lot around him, he was reckless. Didn't give a shit, even when it caught up to him in cuts and bruises. He always smiled. She shrugged.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. You have any money?"
He tilted his head to one side. Judas was almost clean, it gave him the edge he needed to manipulate other's addictions, even though he wasn't very good at what he did. Carroll didn't know where the money he made went to, he lived in the dirt with the rest of them. Ah, well, everyone has secrets. His were none of her buisess.
"No."
She was quite broke, and only getting drunk tonight off of the good humor of the bartender. They had an understanding of sorts. Like Carroll had with a lot of people. Mike sighed. Money was his first choice. But, he would always take sex as a second option. The smile was still hovering on his features.
They left the club together. Banned to a silence almost deafening after hours in the club. The music played on in Carroll's head, through the meaningless discourse that almost always came before, or right after the glow of the drugs.
* * *
She was walking home. It was somewhere in the small hours of morning, and she was concentrating on walking down the sidewalk in a straight line, not tripping on her heels, and steering around lamp posts. It had been too long, she thought vaugely. She was perhaps 18. Three years of this life. She had gotten more proffessional. She could take care of deals more efficiently, with a better understanding of the rules that the higher-ups played by. The light was fading, and it left her cold inside. She felt herself slipping into hopelessness, like she seemed to be doing more and more often. If only...
~If only someone could help her be free of the cold inside..~
She cried out in surprise as she ran into someone. She had been so tangled up in her thoughts she hadn't noticed him. She raised her eyes to his face, and the apology she had in mind died on her lips. Something akin to fear clenched inside of her, and she took a few steps back.
He was handsome, on a second glance, but the first thing that came to mind was 'threatening'. Long, slightly messy raven hair pulled out of his eyes with the aid of a red bandanna. He was dressed in casual black, but his stature seemed to make the slacks and simple turtleneck look formal. His left arm was replaced by a rather scary metal claw from the elbow down. And his eyes...they were really what made her back up. Intense scarlet, and hard, as if trained to remain so, and not show anything of his soul.
"Excuse me."
The apology was quiet, dignified. Unfeeling. She just watched him for a moment, and then managed a mumbled response.
"No, my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going."
She suddenly felt a bit lightheaded, but figured it would pass, and walked past him as he nodded to her, and placed his hand in a pocket, continuing to walk. Suddenly Carroll's vision blurred drastically, and the pain of her head hitting the pavement was about the last thing that registered before the darkness set in.
She awoke to the sun streaming through white curtains. How long had it been since she had seen acutal curtains? Or awoken to a bed this comfortable, for that matter. She rolled over and sat up, slowly, the normal, expected headache starting to pound its way into her skull. Shit. She looked around her. The walls were painted a depressing dark grey, but everything was clean. Very clean, actually, and neat. There was hardly anything personal about the place except for the books. Mostly on science, but there was everything from Greek classics to modern authors.
She pulled off the dark purple and black patterned comforter and noted with relief that she was still dressed and in the same physical condition she had been in last night. The random furnature made her smile with it's obiousness. Even this comforter, which didn't really match anything in the room, practically screamed lonely bachelor. The only thing that made her question this observation was the level of cleansliness.
But..she started to remember facts about the man who had most likely brought her here after she passed out. He seemed so emotionless, she was very surprised he hadn't just left her there. Maybe there was more then meets the eye, but...she could have sworn he had the eyes of a killer. She shook her head. Well in any case, he hadn't taken advantage of her, and that was something to his credit. She needed a shower, she felt filthy. She probably was. But more then that, she suddenly remembered that she was hungry.
She got up, her bare feet padding softly on the cold floors. She opened the door of the room, and poked her head out. Sure enough there was a kitchen, almost right outside of the bedroom, a small living area with a set of dark burgandy couches, and similarly dark black carpeting, and a second room, which looked a little like a very small guest bedroom. Not a bad apartment at all. If it weren't for the fact that it was obviously in the slums of a not-so-attractive sector, she would have guessed the rent to be really expensive.
She traveled across to the kitchen, again noticing how clean everything was. She pulled open the refridgerator. Well, at least there was good food. She was just about to help herself to something in the way of a sandwich when a thought caused her to pause. She was used to scrounging through other people's refridgerators, but the people she usually hung around were unsophisticated slobs. In fact, so was she. And this guy, whoever he was, didn't seem like the kind of person you wanted to piss off. So she closed the door of the fridge again, hesitantly, not really sure of what to do. Maybe just leaving would be best...
"So you're awake."
Carroll jumped a little, and turned around. Her usual flippant composure was a little lost around him. He was standing inoffensively in the doorway of the second bedroom, looking at her levelly. Slowly she built up a defense, and responded as casually as she could.
"Yeah, I am."
A pause, silence between the two.
"Thank you for.."
He cut her off.
"Not nessessary. I made breakfast, if you're hungry."
She nodded, and he pointed her towards the stove. A still-warm omlette was overed on the stove. And he told her, in the same toneless voice that there was orange juice in the refridgerator that she could help herself to. The cabinets were doorless, and obviously rendered that way after purchase, from the holes that the the removal of the hinges had left. She mused over this briefly, but then remembered that the man's left arm had been mechanically repaced, and figured that was a good enough reason. Made it easier to see where he kept the dishes anyways. He had disappeared again, after leaving her instructions, and she shrugged, sitting down to eat the omlette.
It was maybe the best tasting food she'd ever eaten. Who knew you could cook an omlette like *this*? He must be a chef or something, she thought to herself, supressing a giggle at the idea. But maybe it was just that she never really got to eat fine cuisine. Hm. She finished it, and then drank two glasses of orange juice, which was fresh, or so she thought from the absence of that 'consentrate' ish taste.
He re-emerged from his room, and walked around the other side of the table, and sat down wordlessly across from her. They regarded each other in slightly uncomfortable silence for a while.
"So what's your name?"
Carroll was the first one to break it.
"Vincent Valentine. Yours?"
"Carroll Lovette"
More silence. She bit a black-painted fingernail agitatedly.
"You should be more careful, Carroll."
The tone was a little distainful, but there was true consern also, she could tell. He obviously wasn't such a bad guy after all. She nodded, and stood.
"Thanks again. I should go.."
He nodded once to her in seeming agreement, also a goodbye, and then those red eyes took on distant quality. She took one last look at him, and then turned and headed towards the door, slipping on her backless high heels, left on the ground, and closing the door of the apartment behind her.
* * *
Darker Still...
Shutter
Red Savior
Burning Down Forever
A Flash, and Blind Sweetness.
The streetlamps were blurred, and the street was darker then it should have been, for all of these damn yellow hanging orbs of light. The light-haired girl was crying as she walked. She never got very far like this. She had sworn to walk away into the night, to travel the dark streets until she found somewhere of light and warmth. Somewhere that glowed with love. She always got a few hours away, then turned back, tired and cold, feet hurting and just wanting to crawl back into her warm bed. Knowing that if she passed out *she* would yell at her for making them come to find her.
~Mother...sometimes the girl feels she doesn't deserve that name.~
Her mother hated her. It seemed like that, at least. This time it was a fight at school. The girl was always getting picked on, and she had learned how to hit from her mother, who was also always hitting her. She had a bruise on her cheek, the boy had hit her first, after she had insulted him. Boys were always rough with her. Maybe it was just something about the way she acted. Trailer trash upbringing coming through the innocence. Leaving it's imprint on pale skin.
~Blueprints to bruises in her future.~
She turned around and started the long walk back home, hoping she made it before the sun rose, and he mom got up for work. Or was tonight a Friday? She couldn't remember. She shrugged, and rubbed her eyes, leaving them red, but dry. She wouldn't cry any more tonight.
* * *
Years later, she would reflect on that night, from years ago, as she sat in the bar of one of the clubs she frequented. She was innocent then. And now... She had left her mother in the dust, when she dropped out of high school in 11th grade. She had woven beween various minimum wage jobs during the day. They would usually last a few months, before her numerous addictions got the better of her, and she stopped going, on the mornings when her head felt like the needles she shot into her arm the night before. A worse pain.
Sometimes she rented a little apartment, dingy, falling apart, roach infested. The landlady knew her. She kept the space open, but thats about all she did. When she couldn't pay the month's rent she ended up on the street, or on a series of couches or futons, in the homes of near-strangers. The night took care of it's own, but always for a price. She found herself sleeping with men she hated. Disgusting, low dealers, who had nothing in their favor but drugs. But that was all she wanted from them.
By night she thought it was all worth it. She thought, through the warmth and color of a good trip, that it didn't matter. In the grey morning, waking up with a hangover and no idea of where she was, she hated herself for the addiction. Hated this life. But she would just sigh, and light another cigarette.
She was watching the people dance on the dance floor. She danced, occasionally, too. But only when asked. She never liked it too much. The press of people, frantic in their passion and demise.. At least here it could be iced over. Here where the music touched, but allowed the people to remain still in their thoughts.
She was staring down at a drink, through a veil of grey smoke, that always reminded her of morning in the city. Some would have said beautiful, but beauty of a tragic kind, pale with her hair dyed black and cut short, spiked up severely. She wore a little too much dark makeup, and too little clothing for the tempature of the club, and the evening outside. Her thoughts were interrupted as she was joined by another.
"Carroll, babe. Thought I'd find you here."
She tossed a gaurded, sultry look over her shoulder at the man. She knew the voice all too well, even before she got a glimpse of that messy red hair. It was dyed the shade of cherries, and fell over his eyes as he grinned broadly. His lips were painted black, and he was wrapped in chains, spikes, and black leather. He was maybe 4 or 5 years older then Carroll, and liked her. Or at least, he liked using her. She didn't really know if there was any difference.
"Judas. What do you want?"
Carroll was always cool around men. Put up the facade of hard-to-get even though it was obvious she was just a slut. It just caused him to grin more, Judas liked a challenge.
"I got something in the other day for you."
She looked at him a bit suspiciously, her deep purple eyes glittering with natural distrust, and need. Mike had come through for her before, but he was too young. Deals fell apart a lot around him, he was reckless. Didn't give a shit, even when it caught up to him in cuts and bruises. He always smiled. She shrugged.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. You have any money?"
He tilted his head to one side. Judas was almost clean, it gave him the edge he needed to manipulate other's addictions, even though he wasn't very good at what he did. Carroll didn't know where the money he made went to, he lived in the dirt with the rest of them. Ah, well, everyone has secrets. His were none of her buisess.
"No."
She was quite broke, and only getting drunk tonight off of the good humor of the bartender. They had an understanding of sorts. Like Carroll had with a lot of people. Mike sighed. Money was his first choice. But, he would always take sex as a second option. The smile was still hovering on his features.
They left the club together. Banned to a silence almost deafening after hours in the club. The music played on in Carroll's head, through the meaningless discourse that almost always came before, or right after the glow of the drugs.
* * *
She was walking home. It was somewhere in the small hours of morning, and she was concentrating on walking down the sidewalk in a straight line, not tripping on her heels, and steering around lamp posts. It had been too long, she thought vaugely. She was perhaps 18. Three years of this life. She had gotten more proffessional. She could take care of deals more efficiently, with a better understanding of the rules that the higher-ups played by. The light was fading, and it left her cold inside. She felt herself slipping into hopelessness, like she seemed to be doing more and more often. If only...
~If only someone could help her be free of the cold inside..~
She cried out in surprise as she ran into someone. She had been so tangled up in her thoughts she hadn't noticed him. She raised her eyes to his face, and the apology she had in mind died on her lips. Something akin to fear clenched inside of her, and she took a few steps back.
He was handsome, on a second glance, but the first thing that came to mind was 'threatening'. Long, slightly messy raven hair pulled out of his eyes with the aid of a red bandanna. He was dressed in casual black, but his stature seemed to make the slacks and simple turtleneck look formal. His left arm was replaced by a rather scary metal claw from the elbow down. And his eyes...they were really what made her back up. Intense scarlet, and hard, as if trained to remain so, and not show anything of his soul.
"Excuse me."
The apology was quiet, dignified. Unfeeling. She just watched him for a moment, and then managed a mumbled response.
"No, my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going."
She suddenly felt a bit lightheaded, but figured it would pass, and walked past him as he nodded to her, and placed his hand in a pocket, continuing to walk. Suddenly Carroll's vision blurred drastically, and the pain of her head hitting the pavement was about the last thing that registered before the darkness set in.
She awoke to the sun streaming through white curtains. How long had it been since she had seen acutal curtains? Or awoken to a bed this comfortable, for that matter. She rolled over and sat up, slowly, the normal, expected headache starting to pound its way into her skull. Shit. She looked around her. The walls were painted a depressing dark grey, but everything was clean. Very clean, actually, and neat. There was hardly anything personal about the place except for the books. Mostly on science, but there was everything from Greek classics to modern authors.
She pulled off the dark purple and black patterned comforter and noted with relief that she was still dressed and in the same physical condition she had been in last night. The random furnature made her smile with it's obiousness. Even this comforter, which didn't really match anything in the room, practically screamed lonely bachelor. The only thing that made her question this observation was the level of cleansliness.
But..she started to remember facts about the man who had most likely brought her here after she passed out. He seemed so emotionless, she was very surprised he hadn't just left her there. Maybe there was more then meets the eye, but...she could have sworn he had the eyes of a killer. She shook her head. Well in any case, he hadn't taken advantage of her, and that was something to his credit. She needed a shower, she felt filthy. She probably was. But more then that, she suddenly remembered that she was hungry.
She got up, her bare feet padding softly on the cold floors. She opened the door of the room, and poked her head out. Sure enough there was a kitchen, almost right outside of the bedroom, a small living area with a set of dark burgandy couches, and similarly dark black carpeting, and a second room, which looked a little like a very small guest bedroom. Not a bad apartment at all. If it weren't for the fact that it was obviously in the slums of a not-so-attractive sector, she would have guessed the rent to be really expensive.
She traveled across to the kitchen, again noticing how clean everything was. She pulled open the refridgerator. Well, at least there was good food. She was just about to help herself to something in the way of a sandwich when a thought caused her to pause. She was used to scrounging through other people's refridgerators, but the people she usually hung around were unsophisticated slobs. In fact, so was she. And this guy, whoever he was, didn't seem like the kind of person you wanted to piss off. So she closed the door of the fridge again, hesitantly, not really sure of what to do. Maybe just leaving would be best...
"So you're awake."
Carroll jumped a little, and turned around. Her usual flippant composure was a little lost around him. He was standing inoffensively in the doorway of the second bedroom, looking at her levelly. Slowly she built up a defense, and responded as casually as she could.
"Yeah, I am."
A pause, silence between the two.
"Thank you for.."
He cut her off.
"Not nessessary. I made breakfast, if you're hungry."
She nodded, and he pointed her towards the stove. A still-warm omlette was overed on the stove. And he told her, in the same toneless voice that there was orange juice in the refridgerator that she could help herself to. The cabinets were doorless, and obviously rendered that way after purchase, from the holes that the the removal of the hinges had left. She mused over this briefly, but then remembered that the man's left arm had been mechanically repaced, and figured that was a good enough reason. Made it easier to see where he kept the dishes anyways. He had disappeared again, after leaving her instructions, and she shrugged, sitting down to eat the omlette.
It was maybe the best tasting food she'd ever eaten. Who knew you could cook an omlette like *this*? He must be a chef or something, she thought to herself, supressing a giggle at the idea. But maybe it was just that she never really got to eat fine cuisine. Hm. She finished it, and then drank two glasses of orange juice, which was fresh, or so she thought from the absence of that 'consentrate' ish taste.
He re-emerged from his room, and walked around the other side of the table, and sat down wordlessly across from her. They regarded each other in slightly uncomfortable silence for a while.
"So what's your name?"
Carroll was the first one to break it.
"Vincent Valentine. Yours?"
"Carroll Lovette"
More silence. She bit a black-painted fingernail agitatedly.
"You should be more careful, Carroll."
The tone was a little distainful, but there was true consern also, she could tell. He obviously wasn't such a bad guy after all. She nodded, and stood.
"Thanks again. I should go.."
He nodded once to her in seeming agreement, also a goodbye, and then those red eyes took on distant quality. She took one last look at him, and then turned and headed towards the door, slipping on her backless high heels, left on the ground, and closing the door of the apartment behind her.
* * *