Despite his rising, the rain didn't let up.
My rising doesn't deserve such a treat.
If you had happened to stumble upon the dark L.A. Theater at that hour, you would have noticed a figure sitting alone in the middle of the stage. His back to you, his face raised to lights that did not shine. Even if he had heard your footsteps in the back of the theater, echoing to his ears, he probably wouldn't have turned. Anthony was in deep thought.
I felt it go through…
He remembered his last moments of life, his life that ended yesterday. His face lined with determination as he fought Seamus O'Grady on the rooftop of the hotel. He knew he was better than him. He knew that easily he could end the Irish man's life. And he succeeded. The rapier had slid easily out of its sheath. It was anxious to feel blood on its blade. His head pounded with determination as he lunged at Seamus. He missed as Seamus had jumped backwards, almost in slow motion. Not like that had slowed the Thin Man down. He brought back his rapier and let it fly again, this time being caught between Seamus' closed hands. Was he praying?
You'd better pray.
Then the rapier left his hands. Seamus lifted it up in attack, but the Thin Man was prepared. He quickly turned a full 180 degrees, brought his arms back, and leaned backwards as his right foot met the Irish man's hard chest. Seamus, rapier in hand, fell backwards over the edge of the building. Fell to his death.
You took my love.
His rapier gone, he turned to her.
Her.
His hands filled with her body. She struggled briefly but he held a firm grip on her. Her bronze eyes were wide with fear and confusion as she stared back into his.
(Look away, she will be the death of you)
So he brought her closer to him, slowly. Time seemed to slow as he embraced the moment, embraced her. The sounds of the fight behind them did not matter now. He placed his hand on her neck behind her ear. He could feel her pulse which slowed to his touch. He could feel soft red hair beneath his fingers.
Hair.
Her sweet soft lips moved slightly as she breathed. He knew he had to have them. He had to taste them.
(It's your reward you know, you deserve it)
He finally closed his eyes as his lips met hers. He was locked into safety by her lips. She locked the door to his insanity. It was a moment he didn't want to end. This angel had somehow lifted him off his feet. He almost opened his eyes to check if they were floating. His fingers curled around the strand of hair that played in his palm. He felt his hand tighten around the lock and he suddenly pulled. She yelled in alarm as he held up his prize. He screamed in delight as he lifted the hair to his face and breathed in the sweet smell. Everything else around him, it wasn't there anymore. As his eyes slowly lifted to see her, he saw that she held a lock of his own hair between her fingers.
I didn't feel it though…
She lifted it to her face and drew it across her features. A smile appeared as she could feel his sense of peace.
(You don't have to be afraid anymore)
But did she really understand him? He opened his mouth and felt a push of words deep in his throat.
"Wha…?"
Her eyes widened as she dropped his hair. She drew closer to him.
"You're going to say something," she breathed.
He drew short breaths as he touched her soft cheek. Could he really tell her…?
Lightning flashed and thunder rang through the theater. Instinctively, the Thin Man brought his hand to his belt, soon realizing that his rapier was gone.
He stole her.
The light gradually fell away, leaving only the light of the single candle that he had lit in the middle of the floor. He brought his fingers together so that they wouldn't be able to go and play with the flame.
He pushed himself to his knees and stared blindly into the darkness ahead. He closed his eyes briefly to imagine a king before him. When he opened them, he was still in darkness.
Now what's happened to me?
His hand slowly came up to his chest. He felt the cloth from his coat and the moisture from the rain…and the blood? He brought his hand behind the silk white button up shirt and felt for something that he couldn't see. His fingers touched something that wasn't meant to be there. But it had to be there. He brought his fingers up to the light and felt the sticky blood between his fingers. A cough rose in his throat and he let it out. He felt the same stickiness in his mouth and he felt more liquid escape between his lips and splatter to the wooden stage.
The Thin Man rolled his eyes up to look for God. Seeing nothing, he slowly lowered himself chest down on the floor. He felt the cool wood on his cheek, and he found comfort.
He didn't know if he would wake tomorrow, but the dream maker was calling him.
