I thought the worst moment of my life was when I'd watched him die, but I was wrong. The worst moment of my life was waking up after the fire of life had been forced through my veins and realizing that I was still alive. I'd thought the sharp pain would be the sweet agony that ended my pitiful existence, but then came the fire. I thought the fire was their final act of brutality, a last-ditch attempt to control my death since I had taken control of when I would perish. I couldn't even scream as the pain washed through me and it burned for so long that I thought it would never end. I realized as I continued to burn that the fire wasn't earthly, it couldn't be. If it had been I surely would have succumbed by now. Surely, I would have been ash and strewn across the field.
Somehow, I had been trapped in my body and forced to endure the slow torture of the flames as they licked at every nerve in my body. Every sense was lost to me as I burned, though there was a moment that I thought I could taste the ash that my body was becoming. I didn't know if my eyes were open or closed but I saw nothing but darkness and I heard nothing as I mentally screamed for the end to come, to finally grant me mercy.
I don't know how long I burned, but it was long enough that I was starting to convince myself that this was damnation, that this was punishment for taking my fate into my own hands. I almost wished that I could writhe and scream, but something prevented me, denied me even that small relief. The world was a cruel, cruel place and it seemed that even in death that I would not be able to escape that. I wouldn't even get to see him in death, just forever exist in this agony alone.
I didn't notice it at first, the lack of pain overlooked by the presence of it everywhere else. I only noticed once my hands and feet were completely free of the fire. With that awareness came others, I realized that I was in fact moving, that my hands were grasping for something while my feet were kicking out. With each movement I could hear something breaking, I could feel tiny things falling on me.
Once I was aware that the pain was receding I could feel it slowly moving from my limbs and seeming to collect in my chest. The flames seemed to find a new hold on my already tattered heart and burned stronger than ever. As the pain built I became aware that I was in fact screaming, my ears finally registering the sound and could feel the fast and hard beating of my heart as it seemed to race toward something as the pain got worse and worse, burning hotter and hotter. I thought surely this was finally going to be the end that if I hadn't been dead before that surely this must be the moment. In that final moment of life, I felt joy despite the pain and relished the moment till suddenly I heard my heart stop.
It seemed impossible to comprehend. I heard my heart stop. It should have been impossible. I shouldn't have been able to hear my heart stop, I shouldn't be able to think about hearing my heart stop, I should be dead, I should be in whatever after life existed for me, I should be free! I didn't know what to do, I laid there confused and angry and heartbroken, breathing heavily though the pain in my chest and throat that should have been there from all my screaming was missing. In a moment of confusion and desperation, I held my breath and waited. The need to breath didn't come. The feeling wasn't exactly comfortable, but the extreme need to struggle for breath didn't come and I suddenly felt crowded and terrified.
My eyes opened and it was still dark, so I moved, the sound of something shifting came again along with the thousands of something small falling on me, slowly collecting on and around me. I put my hand up into the space, I could feel above me that there was something flat there. I pushed on it and was surprised by the sound of the material breaking as my hand went through it and more tiny things fell on me. I pulled my hand back and a steady stream of something was falling through the hole.
I put both hands up and pushed through more of the material and this time sat up, dragging myself upward into whatever was above me. I forced my way up, it almost felt like I was swimming. The realization of what I was doing didn't hit me till my hand moved and I could see again, could see the moon over head and then the grave markers several yards away. The realization that I had just dug myself out of my own grave was like a bullet to the chest, salt to my already festering wounds. I hadn't been the only one to think that I was dying. As I looked around at the graveyard with a clarity I had never seen it with before, I felt rage building within me. When my eyes settled on my would be grave marker I heard the involuntary snarl leave my lips. It was pathetic. I wouldn't have expected an engraved slab of rock but there wasn't even a wooden cross with my name on it. What marked my grave was a small stick shoved haphazardly into the dusty ground with a dirty white rag tied to it.
I finished pulling myself from the ground, pushing myself up to stand and felt the skittering of the dirt as it fell from my hair and dress, the same dress that I had gone to the tree wearing. The sound of music coming from the saloon pulled my attention toward town and my rage seemed to trigger an instinct as I started moving toward town. I moved faster than ever before, I had barely registered that I was moving when I was suddenly standing in front of the saloon. I could hear everything that was going on inside. I could hear the creak of wood under boots and heels, the clinking of glasses and bottles, the words that someone was whispering to one of the doves, the moans coming from the rooms upstairs and lastly a thumping, at least a dozen of them. The sound made my mouth water and the fire I had felt before reignited in my throat.
The feeling distracted me and my hand moved to my throat as I tried to swallow. The fire failed to diminish with the action and I was desperate to douse the flame. I was contemplating the water barrel for the marshal's horse when he staggered out of the saloon. He caught himself on the porch rail and presented himself as my newest distraction. He looked up and spotted me, it took several seconds before his face went white as he realized who he was seeing and I felt pride at the terror his face expressed.
"It's impossible." He said and shook his head as he stumbled backward. His terror made me smile as I moved closer, suddenly standing nose to nose with him his heart raced and he tried to flail away but my hand grabbed his arm with a resounding crack that made him scream in pain.
I took a breath at that moment and instinct took over as I smelled him. There was the scent of sweat, alcohol and woman's perfume, but there was something else underneath it, a scent so sweet it called to the fire in my throat and sent my body into action before I could realize what I was doing. I pulled the bastard closer and sank my teeth into his neck. The taste of his blood exploded in my mouth and slid down my throat dousing the fire and causing me to moan in relief and delight.
I drank till his body had no more to give, his heart stuttering to a stop as I dropped his body to the ground. The whole thing had lasted less than the time it took to realize what I was doing, but just long enough for someone to come investigating the marshal's yell. A miner burst through the doors and staggered to a stop at the scene before him, his mouth opened but he never got the chance to yell, the sound of his heart rekindling the fire in my throat. I lunged before a sound could pass his lips, latching on to his neck and draining him as quickly as the marshal before letting his body drop. He fell backward, back through the doors before hitting the floor of the saloon and drawing the attention of the other's inside.
There was a split second of silence before a woman screamed 'demon' and sent the room into a frenzy of activity. Women screamed and several men pulled guns as the doves tried to flee up the stairs. The actions triggered something inside me and before I knew it I was leaping at the man closest to me. I heard the sound of a gun shot, felt the heat and power of the bullet as it connected with the skin of my rib cage but the pain never came and I heard the sound as it ricocheted off me and embedded itself in the wall. This instinct didn't demand I drink from the man I lunged at, instead I grab a hold of his head and jerked, hearing the satisfying crack of his neck before allowing the body to drop to the floor like the others. There were other gun shots, none of which so much as scratched me though they ripped and burned my dress. When it become obvious that the bullets weren't going to stop me the men tried to flee. None of them made it through the door. I ripped through the group of them, enjoying the terror on their faces as they realized their demise. When the last man fell to the floor I stopped for a moment and took in the ravaged saloon, bullet holes riddled the walls, table and chairs were overturned, glasses and bottles lay shattered and alcohol covered the floor seeping into the wood and the clothes of the dead men.
A sound from above reminded me of the women and I moved up the stairs, busting down the door they had pushed a dresser against in a vain attempt to preserve themselves. They screamed as the wood splintered and huddled closer together in the far corner of the room. My mind was a haze as I moved on them. Somewhere I knew that I shouldn't still crave the blood that I could hear pumping quickly through their bodies, but the fire in my throat was still present and drove me farther into the room as I grabbed the first dove and latched into her neck as she and the others screamed. They tried to flee as I drank but before they could reach the door the dove was dry and I flung her body in their path.
Another series of screams filled the air as I lunged on the group and unconsciously left one woman for last. I had a hold on her hair as the last girl fell to the floor. It was in that moment as she looked back into my face that she recognized me and the terror intensified. Her whole body shook as she cowered from my hold on her. In that moment I felt powerful, for the first time in my life I was the one in control and there was nothing any of them could do to stop me. It was then that I realized that the fire had made me strong, made me fast, made me able to release myself from the chains that had been locked around my neck from the moment I exited my mother's body. The torture had been a gift, it had given me the freedom and power to make those who had held the other end of my chains feel the same weakness they had inflicted on me my whole life.
"Abilene?" She said in disbelief.
"Madame." I replied as a smile spread across my lips, lips that were still dripping with the blood of one of her beloved doves.
"How?" Her question was barely a whisper and I relished in her fear. Bathing in the feeling of my power over her as she cowered before me. My whole life this woman had stood as a pillar of strength and power, putting me down at every turn, bending me to her will.
"I don't know and I don't care. I just know that I was gifted the chance to make you and everyone in this pitiful town pay for what you've done to me, what you did to him." I hissed and she struggled anew.
"No, Abilene! I'm your mother! You can't do this!" She screamed, desperate tears falling down her cheeks.
"You know, it's liberating to know that I'm the one that wiped the lot of you from existence." I said giddily and pulled her closer.
"No! Please!" She begged as I sank my teeth into the flesh of her neck, relishing the feeling as her blood soothed the fire and she slowly went limp in my arms. I let her body drop to the floor like the others and stood smiling at her body, her face frozen forever in a look of terror.