Gosh. I am so sorry it's taken me so long to update. I've had so much stuff
to do. coursework is a real bummer! I finally wore out my blade video, so I
went and got it on DVD, yay!!! Extra scenes rock!!! I might incorporate the
human "unwilling donors" thing into the story later on. but on with it now!
You might not get this bit now, but I will reveal more later.
Deacon stared absently at the ceiling watching the patterns cast by the water. He ran over the images floating around in his mind. Most of them related to Raven in one way or another. He had found that a number of her memories had been transferred to him when he had bitten her. He found it disturbing; he disliked the things he saw. She was again asleep, nestled across his chest. He looked down at her and lifted her left arm and turned it so that the underside faced him. He saw a long scar running from the crook of her elbow to the palm of her hand, over the arteries in both her wrist and elbow. The memory of the event flashed into his mind. He felt physically sick as he watched. He saw a young Raven running into a small barely furnished room carrying a double edged razor blade. He watched as she slammed the door and he saw her face. Tears ran down her cheeks and there were black bruises covering her body. There were scratches down her arms and a deep cut across her cheek. He watched with a feeling of sick fascination as she pulled up the sleeve of her shirt and placed the blade in the crook of her elbow. The door opened and a man in his late thirties entered. He couldn't hear the words that were spoken but noted the depressive insanity that haunted her eyes as she spoke violently to the man. He turned his eyes back to her arm and watched as she plunged the blade into her arm and ripped it downwards, slicing the whole forearm open. He closed his eyes and felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He'd had a tough life before he became a vampire but even he hadn't been driven to attempted suicide to try to end it. He thought for a moment, perhaps allowing a vampire to turn him was, indirectly, suicide. He glanced around the room and his mind wandered again.
He found himself watching an unmistakeably teenaged Raven, dressed completely in black, chains hanging from her hips, her hair black but reflecting moonlight a dark blue colour, her face pale and black make-up on her lips and eyes, mid-calf length black leather boots on her feet and a long black coat that barely hung above the ground. She was in an alley and looked as if she had been running; he saw flashlights and looked in the direction they were coming from and saw three policemen running down the alley after her. He watched as she leaped into a sprint and headed out of the alley, she ran directly into a busy road, dodging the traffic and darting into another alley as she reached the other side of the road. He followed and watched as she hoisted herself up onto the steel walkway running down the walls of the buildings of the alley at about seven feet from the ground. She crouched there in the shadows and watched as the policemen ran into the alley. They slowed to a walk and directed the beams from their flashlights into the shadows inches away from where Raven was crouching. She edged away from the light but froze suddenly as the metal groaned. Deacon saw the fear in her eyes as the light passed over her. He saw one of the policemen shout but again couldn't hear what was being said. He watched as Raven sprinted along the walkway. The metal gave way when she had almost reached the end. She fell through to the concrete below, landing hard on her feet. She made to sprint off again but stopped abruptly. Deacon was puzzled and turned to look at the policemen, one of them had his pistol loaded and pointed at her. He watched as the other two moved forwards and grabbed her. The first policeman put away the pistol and made to walk to her. The other policemen were struggling with Raven; she was fighting to get them off of her. Deacon watched as she sank her teeth into the arm of one of the policemen holding her, causing him to let go swiftly. He smiled to himself, "So she was like this all along" he thought to himself. The other policeman received a hard kick to the knee and fell to the ground clutching at his leg. The first policeman was fumbling with the holster on his waist, trying to free his gun. Deacon watched as Raven jumped into the air and hammered her foot into his face. Deacon saw her sprint across the road again and then was suddenly snapped back into reality. "Fuck" he said, breathing heavily "Fuck" He glanced across the room at the clock. He had been sleeping for the last five hours. He eased himself off of the sofa, careful not to wake Raven and headed off into the kitchen. He pulled a bag of blood from the fridge and poured the contents into a large glass. He drank deeply and slammed the now empty glass down onto the counter. It smashed and shards of glass flew everywhere. "Why the fuck is this happening to me?" he asked himself. "Why is what happening to you Deacon" Raven's voice floated to his ears. Deacon turned to look at her, smiling.
"Nothing for you to worry about sweet heart" he said.
Deacon stared absently at the ceiling watching the patterns cast by the water. He ran over the images floating around in his mind. Most of them related to Raven in one way or another. He had found that a number of her memories had been transferred to him when he had bitten her. He found it disturbing; he disliked the things he saw. She was again asleep, nestled across his chest. He looked down at her and lifted her left arm and turned it so that the underside faced him. He saw a long scar running from the crook of her elbow to the palm of her hand, over the arteries in both her wrist and elbow. The memory of the event flashed into his mind. He felt physically sick as he watched. He saw a young Raven running into a small barely furnished room carrying a double edged razor blade. He watched as she slammed the door and he saw her face. Tears ran down her cheeks and there were black bruises covering her body. There were scratches down her arms and a deep cut across her cheek. He watched with a feeling of sick fascination as she pulled up the sleeve of her shirt and placed the blade in the crook of her elbow. The door opened and a man in his late thirties entered. He couldn't hear the words that were spoken but noted the depressive insanity that haunted her eyes as she spoke violently to the man. He turned his eyes back to her arm and watched as she plunged the blade into her arm and ripped it downwards, slicing the whole forearm open. He closed his eyes and felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He'd had a tough life before he became a vampire but even he hadn't been driven to attempted suicide to try to end it. He thought for a moment, perhaps allowing a vampire to turn him was, indirectly, suicide. He glanced around the room and his mind wandered again.
He found himself watching an unmistakeably teenaged Raven, dressed completely in black, chains hanging from her hips, her hair black but reflecting moonlight a dark blue colour, her face pale and black make-up on her lips and eyes, mid-calf length black leather boots on her feet and a long black coat that barely hung above the ground. She was in an alley and looked as if she had been running; he saw flashlights and looked in the direction they were coming from and saw three policemen running down the alley after her. He watched as she leaped into a sprint and headed out of the alley, she ran directly into a busy road, dodging the traffic and darting into another alley as she reached the other side of the road. He followed and watched as she hoisted herself up onto the steel walkway running down the walls of the buildings of the alley at about seven feet from the ground. She crouched there in the shadows and watched as the policemen ran into the alley. They slowed to a walk and directed the beams from their flashlights into the shadows inches away from where Raven was crouching. She edged away from the light but froze suddenly as the metal groaned. Deacon saw the fear in her eyes as the light passed over her. He saw one of the policemen shout but again couldn't hear what was being said. He watched as Raven sprinted along the walkway. The metal gave way when she had almost reached the end. She fell through to the concrete below, landing hard on her feet. She made to sprint off again but stopped abruptly. Deacon was puzzled and turned to look at the policemen, one of them had his pistol loaded and pointed at her. He watched as the other two moved forwards and grabbed her. The first policeman put away the pistol and made to walk to her. The other policemen were struggling with Raven; she was fighting to get them off of her. Deacon watched as she sank her teeth into the arm of one of the policemen holding her, causing him to let go swiftly. He smiled to himself, "So she was like this all along" he thought to himself. The other policeman received a hard kick to the knee and fell to the ground clutching at his leg. The first policeman was fumbling with the holster on his waist, trying to free his gun. Deacon watched as Raven jumped into the air and hammered her foot into his face. Deacon saw her sprint across the road again and then was suddenly snapped back into reality. "Fuck" he said, breathing heavily "Fuck" He glanced across the room at the clock. He had been sleeping for the last five hours. He eased himself off of the sofa, careful not to wake Raven and headed off into the kitchen. He pulled a bag of blood from the fridge and poured the contents into a large glass. He drank deeply and slammed the now empty glass down onto the counter. It smashed and shards of glass flew everywhere. "Why the fuck is this happening to me?" he asked himself. "Why is what happening to you Deacon" Raven's voice floated to his ears. Deacon turned to look at her, smiling.
"Nothing for you to worry about sweet heart" he said.