Now, now, what do we have here?
I have been sorting out my collection again. Father says I have enough specimens already, but somehow, it just doesn't seem enough. No matter what I do, my collection is not complete, because I am lacking something. I finger the glass jars lightly, and the cloudy liquid inside stirs, the copper blue mixture settling to the bottom.
A pair of preciouseyes stares back at me, from inside the murky depths. If I look deep enough, I can see the shuttered gaze of betrayal, still lingering like rotten decay around the two balls. It must have been an old conquest, I decide. Only a woman would hold such a persistent grudge; even when dead.
And with both eyes and entrails gouged out.
Similarly, another image flashes into my mind, this time, pupils of sin, ringed irises tainted with green and gold. The eyes in front of me lose their appeal, and my grip tightens. The glass cracks, and for a long time, I just stare into space.
I know why my collection is not complete.
I am missing him.
Liquid seeps through the cracks, and onto my hand. It trickles, drips, until nothing is left apart from glass shards and the decaying eyes. Oddly enough, my hands are warm…until I see the copper lifeblood seep down my arm. Oh how I want to cut again, to feel the gristle and tendons breaking under my slice of the knife. To feel the joy of squelching muscle underneath my fingertips.
…But lately, that has become dull.
Dull in comparison of those damn glitter green eyes, speckles of gold which are unmatched by any currently known colour. Unworthy of even been compared to the notorious Count Hargreaves…and how I will enjoy watching his eventual demise, his downfall, spiralling slowly into my hands.
And then I can't be blamed for what I do.
In my opinion, Art is painted, with every brush stroke. The body is Art, and so it deserves to be sliced with every knife stroke. Cain is the very epitome of a canvas, and this particular canvas is just begging to be painted red.
And how sweet it will be, my final masterpiece. There will be no brother to compete with, and no distraction for father, and I will have my very own pair of demon eyes, and my very own demon. I will have a pale, living corpse…for Cain will never be just a corpse.
Because what I want isn't revenge. This has nothing to do with a petty feud between father, son, and step-son.
Because what I want is Cain.
I want his pretty eyes and his pretty face staring at me from these jars, forever locked; forever fresh, frozen in eternity.
And finally, my collection would be complete.
…………………………………
AN: Wishy washy Jezebel, with his usual twistedness. Would body parts or Cain be his obsession? Not quite sure...and help with the next chapter? Please? I have no idea who to do next, apart from Merryweather and her Zodiac cards...but you can see I'm getting desperate. XP I'm not very pleased with this chapter, but hey, it's an update at least. CC is appreciated.