I cut your right breast, and you scream, for this cut is deeper than the last. Once more, I lick up your blood, like a cat would drink milk. Its flavor still confuses me, different than anything I've ever tasted. Oh, I love your taste, your feel, your touch. I hate you, I really do, but your taste is exquisite. Narci would certainly approve. I bring the knife down, slicing deeper and deeper. You continue screaming, lost amidst passion and pain. I lay you against the desk, your back arching so your head almost rested on it. How flexible you are, my dear. You crack your eyes open slightly, revealing a darkened bronze color, and you moan incoherently. You hate this and yet you love it. How similar we are indeed. I cut a circle open around your navel and you let out an ear-piercing scream. I lean in to kiss you, exploring your mouth with my tongue as I get blood all over my silver dress. You're like wine darling, I could get drunk on you and revel in it forever. Oh, you are my favorite drink, little whore. You taste of everything, darkness, light, happiness, sadness, pureblood, filth. I can never get enough of you. It's a pity I must kill you. I extricate myself from your delectable lips and probing tongue to trail it down your body until I find the bloody circle around your navel. Once again, I drink it. Completely intoxicating, I lose myself in you. But you don't mind that, do you? You like it when I lose myself; it reminds you of you. I delve further down, hearing your gasps, but not quite comprehending them fully. You love it when I lick you down there, don't you? You're such a tart, darling. You put your hands to my head and push me further in, your words coming as incoherent gasps. I once again brandish the knife, you don't notice, too lost in passion, I leave you, you cry out, and I steal your pearl with my hard-earned steel. You howl in pain, reminding me of Siri, a blood traitor to the Blackblood, I smile, and return to my previous activities, drinking your blood as if it were Narci's delicate wines. It's red, my darling courtesan, the color of your beautiful hair. And, oh, how I love to play with your hair. I wish it were mine; it can be, because you're dying, my sweet.

forsaking all i've fallen for

You bleed, you cry, you sob, you pound at my back, but I merely smirk. I kiss you with my lips stained from your blood, tears fall to rest on my cheeks, and into our entwined mouths. You're so sad now, aren't you? You're going to die now, and you see your death approaching. Do I excite you enough now? You do sound quite enthralled, my dear. Do you like the feel of your blood rushing out of your body, leaving you forever? Does it fill you with ecstasy, making you scream and moan? Why yes it does. Not that you'd ever admit it, because it's going to kill you, and you don't want that, do you? I take up the knife once more, and slice at your curled tuft of hair, viciously hacking at it, a bit like wanderers in the jungle, trying to reach some sort of ancient civilization. Your blood could be the drink of an ancient civilization, so rich, so old, so pure. I plunge the knife into your backside, and you scream, so loudly and so high I'm afraid the beautiful glass windows will rupture. Don't worry, my darling, I'll make sure you rest in peace. You're hairless down there now, so you'll never have to worry about it showing in your tiny little "outfits". Not that you'll be wearing those outfits anymore... I cut and cut and cut, it seems like your death is drawing closer, then you sit up more, though how this is possible I don't know. You've lost so much blood, my sweet, do you even have much more? The Gryffindor spirit in you has awakened now, but it's too late for you, my pet. You push at me frantically, trying to make me go away, because, damnit, I'm going to die, and I laugh now, my passion awakened. You've seen me now, I realize that, and I revel in the beauty of the situation. You're screwed over no matter what goes down, because you've lost too much blood, you're going to die. And I'm going to laugh as long as I can without taking a breath, cry for you, my darling courtesan, and piss on your corpse only because I can. You're going to hate me for who I am now, I'm going to find you bloody hilarious, and you'll scream and scream and scream because this is a nightmare you can't escape.

i rise to meet the end

You're ready, aren't you? You know its coming, you're trying to redeem yourself in your mind, you don't want to die but you know you will, oh, your angst is so beautiful, my darling. So sweet and angsty, for Merlin's sake! I love you, love you, love you, and its almost a shame that I must kill you now--almost. So do you have any last words, dear? Any redeeming statements? I'm sure you don't, because there is no way to redeem you, you sad, sad slut. I hate you so much I can't describe it in words, for words are too simplistic for the force of my hatred. Oops! There goes a coral pink nipple, and, oh my! There goes the other one, such a fine pair while flying through the air, falling, now hitting the ground. I hear your screams through dim ears, no longer focusing on you, just venting all of my lovely rage onto your luxurious body. Hope you don't mind, darling. There goes your ear, with its adorable pearl studded piercing, your nose, image of perfection that it is, and you still sob and scream uncontrollably, hoping someone will hear you. No, my pretty little girl, there's no one here to hear your last pleas. Only me, and I turn a deaf ear onto the most sanctimonious of pleas. They don't mean anything coming from you, I know it, you know it, there's nothing more to say, really. It's all been hashed and rehashed, said over and over, so there's nothing meaningful left for you to say, is there? Oh my poor little baby, you almost make me feel for you. Your eyes are closing now, your screams quieting, your attacks beginning to cease, you're beginning to leave. Don't leave me! You-can't- go. Damnit, it's too early for you to die, you were supposed to last. My darling, I love you so much I can't even begin to justify what I've done to you. Thank goodness your death is approaching, I can't stand you anymore, you hateful bitch. Your blood flows faster than ever now out of your body, you're sighing in ecstasy, flying up above me, gently chastising me. How can you do this to me? I don't see how a pitiful whiny brat like you can make me care. It can't, damnit. You can't make me care about you. You can't. You're bleeding so badly, my little one. Would you like me to alleviate the pain?

"You're a black rose, 'Trix. A horrible, poisonous black rose. And you made me one too," you whisper though cracked lips, glaring at me through half- opened eyes. I smile as your spirit floats up and away from me. Have fun in Purgatory, darling.

I'm finally free.