Authoress's Note: Okay! Here I am! I had some extra time today, so I decided to upload the next chapter of the story. Just so you know, this is now rated "R" because it is slightly above PG-13. They need to come up with something like PG-15; it would really help out with stories like this.

            When I am done quoting "Behind Blue Eyes," I will start quoting a poem about Pegasus; I wrote it during my psych class. After that, I have no idea what I will do. If you people know any songs that might define Pegasus, please let me know. : - )

            I do not own "Behind Blue Eyes" or "Yu-Gi-Oh!" I don't even an entire deck of store-bought cards. I make my own cards (oh, yeah… and bribe my sister for some of her store-bought ones like the Change of Heart…). In other words, this story is my interpretation of the character Pegasus. No humans were harmed in the making of this story.

"No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do –

And I blame you!"

- the Who

            I have fallen asleep again. When I am not writing, I am watching the moonrise from the small window. The moon is becoming thinner, and as it does, the fear of death is rising in me. The reason they have not moved against me yet is unknown, but I think it has something to do with the phases of the moon.

            If so, I have about a week to finish my entries. The new moon is closing fast.

            Earlier tonight, the cloaked one came to me. He sat in front of me and removed his hood. It was Midnight Blue. I should have known it would be him. He bit me again; he drank only a small sip before releasing me. I am grateful for that; else I would not have the strength to write these words. He pressed something into my hand. It was a candle. He lit it for me and told me to write more.

            I think he reads what I have written while I am asleep, yet he doesn't seem to care that some of what I write is against him. I have him to thank for the candle, though, for if he hadn't given it to me I would not be writing these words.

            The sun is bothering my eyes again. I find myself sleeping in the day rather than at night, and as each day in the darkness passes, I find my eyes are becoming more sensitive to the light. This candlelight is sometimes a little too bright for me; it seems to illuminate the entire cell.

            His blood is slowly changing me, I think, though I doubt there is enough of it in my system to do more than sensitize my eyes and make me sleep during the day. I wonder what would happen if he drained me until I was almost dead. If he gave blood back to me, would enough of my human blood remain to fight the poison?

            Midnight Blue came to me often after I awoke from my two-week sleep. He would appear quickly and disappear in the same way. I remember him fiercely kissing me on the mouth; he sometimes cut his own tongue and let me taste the cold fire again. Other times he drank from me, though it was never enough to harm me. It was as if he was waiting for something.

            "Pegasus," he whispered. It was a month after I had awoken. He caressed my throat, and when he touched the wounds, spasms of pain would shoot through my body. "It won't be long now."

            He drank from me again. I think he knew I was planning to flee, else he would not have said what he was about to say.

            "I will find you no matter how far you run. We share a bond of blood." His lips traveled up my neck until they found my lips. The kiss did not come. I smelled my blood on his lips.

            The kiss finally came, and the blood smeared across my lips. I had learned not to speak when he came; if I did, he would drink so much of my blood that the world would be hazy. I knew in those moments that it was almost enough blood to kill me.

            "You are so beautiful," he told me. "I can see why your muse wanted you."

            He grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. My head lolled on my shoulders; I let my narrowed eyes slowly reach the burning blue orbs.

            "Paint me."

            I awoke early the next morning, keeping the shades drawn. I had less than five hours of sleep, but I was not tired. I knew this day was too important for me to be weary.

            It took me about an hour to gather all that I held dear. I was about to go out the window when I saw the painting I made last night. His eyes were staring at me; it was almost dry. In fact, by some strange luck, it was completely dry! I rolled it up and stuffed it in my backpack.

            Gold was crammed into my pouch along with several beautiful gems. It was enough gold for me to last a lifetime, no matter how humble I had to be. Most of it was in the form of gold necklaces my grandmother had given me, heirlooms that I knew I needed to part with. I had found semi-precious stones in the mountains. The jewels were my mother's; she had died a week ago.

            I told Gabrielle where I was going, and she gave me paper and told me to write to her. I promised her that I would write whenever I could.

            "Why are you going?" she had asked.

            "He comes to me every night. I need to get away from him. I feel like a caged bird from the power he holds over me. If I don't leave, he will kill me!"

            It's all the past, I told myself, not the present.