Sweet love, be mine.



A dark hand reached out,

and tangled through masses of long,

straight,

deep chocolate hair,

tied close to the end.


A sobbing cry escaped her throat,

and her big, brown eyes

welled up with large pearly tears.


The black gloved hand jerked,

pulling hair,

and with it,

the movement of her body ceased.


Her shirt was cut and holed,

evidence of a struggle,

and patches of deep crimson blood

spattered her legs ,

arms,

and torso.


The hand ran across one of the cuts,

gathering blood on a fingertip,

and bringing it to the wearers lips.

Slowly,

the lips part,

revealing sharp canine teeth,

and a fleshy red tongue.

The tongue flicks across the blood,

the iron taste filling its mouth,

and a smile crosses the now blood red lips.


The hand again pulls,

evicting yet another low moan

from the woman's sweet lips.

The sound merely entices the attacker more.

Firmly,

resolutely,

the hand releases the hair,

one hand now cupping the woman's delicate chin.



A low voice emanates from the cold throat,

a warning to her,

not to make too much noise.

A barely noticeable nod of agreement,

a slight flutter of her eyes;

she wants to know why her attacker is doing this thing,

causing her so much pain.



A swift slap from the left hand,

her eyes sting,

and water,

her lip is cut open anew.



The voice again,

low,

voluminous,

cautioning her not to try any stupid thing like that again.



She can feel,

fear,

welling up in her heart,

her lungs,

and attempts to restrain,

curb the instinct to scream,

but her efforts are in vain.



The scream emanates from her soul,

and yet,

another swift slap ceases it.



Still,

her mouth will not quit moving,

her voice will not stop questioning,

and again the lips part,

and the hand again raises,

a warning of deeds to come,

should she continue in her ways,

but still she continues,

stubborn to the end.



She whispers:

"Why,

why do... th-is t-t-to me?

Y-you..."

She coughs,

her body spasming,

blood from her lip covered by blood from her throat,

"Y-you h-had your r-r-revenge.

Your revenge on h-him..."

Her eyes begin to close,

her body begins to undertake its shut down,

and the last words she ever hears,

uttered from the sweet lips of her attacker:

"But my dear Tifa,

You were the one that hated her."



And the hand of her beloved,

closed on her throat,

choking,

suffocating,

smothering her,

and she found darkness,

swiftly and sweetly,

took her from her hellborne life,

and carried her,

on,

to the lifestream.





Fin