Disclaimer: Still own nothing, don't waste your time trying to sue me.

Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers sobs I love you guys!

Warnings (duh): This story will contain abuse, torture and lots of other mean nasty things. If you no likie, don't readie and no flamie. Or I'll cook a pizza and eat it all! Mwwwahahahaha!

Okay, on with the cameras, lights, actions 'cuz it's GO TIME!

Burn It All Up

Chapter 3;

Sadists

The human mind is an interesting thing. It can withstand such turmoil around it, outside of its own embodiment, yet when the tides turn and terror becomes the reality of the individual, they lose their preciously small grip on sanity. Yet some are more difficult to break. Emotional pain, exposed to the individual after they have buried it for so long, can bring more damage than when it first occurs. Such feelings of guilt and pain mortals bury, gradually destroying themselves from the inside without even knowing it. But this was never my skill.

I dredge up hate and force that into the minds of even the most pure individuals, forcing them to destroy themselves and everyone they love with a sharp tongue and heavy hand. Belial, on the other hand, is more of a physical presence. His favorite is raping someone into submission and forcing them to enjoy it. The self-hate grows all on its own. I suppose I should give him my human name. The name I took for visits to this realm of earth, lest he forget me altogether. I don't want that. I want my name to find a place in his mind; merge to become a permanent nightmare. I want him to wake up screaming my name with the terror of someone who has been broken. And break him I shall.

'What is my name, Johnny?' I hissed silkily as I leaned over him, 'I want you to say my name.'

The boy blinked painfully, the spicy powder of the hell flower, Insomnia, burning his eyes and forcing him to remain awake. Come to think of it, all ailments of mortal kind originate from some form of hell flower or another. The main thing is that I was right. He had forgotten my name already. Mortal memories are unable to hold a demon's name in mind. The magical components of the name force them to forget.

'My name is Sevran. You will remember that. My companion's name is Desmond. You will remember that,' I instructed. A defiant glint flashed in his eyes and I smirked inwardly at the potential that little spark held. When his family came home, and if he lived, he would become the most submissive creature they had never met. Smiling wickedly beneath my mask, I asked him a question.

'What is my name?'

'How the hell should I know?' he retorted. A solid slap to the face caused him to yelp as my sharp, well-manicured nails bit his flesh. Ruthlessly, I dragged them across his bare chest, eliciting little whimpers and gasps that he tried vainly to hide.

'Bring me the knife,' I instructed Desmond, only to have him appear instantly at my side. Carefully I pressed the flat of the blade against the helpless youth's cheek, sliding it down and changing the angle at his neck, letting it slide along, a crimson trail in its wake.

Blood is a curious thing. It holds such a negative meaning to most mortals, but is truly the most beautiful and essential part of their being. The rich, slightly metallic aroma can frighten most mortals and yet it raises my own black blood and provides and elated feeling. The taste is dark, exotic and metallic, delicious in all its entirety.

I pressed the knife deeper, slicing into his side and causing a flow of that wonderful liquid. Unable to contain the need any longer, I pulled off my mask.

Johnny's eyes, while they had been large before, managed to double in size. I should probably explain why. I have black eyes to start, full, rosy lips, a set of high cheekbones all framed by inky black locks of hair. To a mortal, I would be considered beautiful. Desmond is similar in appearance, though his eyes are red and his hair blond.

Slowly I lowered my eyes to the wound, then my lips, gently lapping up the blood and willing the wound to heal enough that it wouldn't be life threatening. I thought for a minute before deciding what I wanted. The words I uttered were agonizing to the ears of mortals and Johnny was no different. The second they began to leave my lips, he screamed, as though the entire wrath of hell were upon him. He convulsed, still screaming, as Desmond walked up and handed me a small satchel. I thanked him in the same tongue and Johnny went right on screaming as though fire were ripping through his veins. Slapping him soundly, I managed to shut him up.

'This, my little friend, is salt. You do know what happens when salt is poured onto a wound, do you not?' I asked silkily. He shook his head, though whether that meant he didn't understand, didn't want to, or he was trying to shake off the effect of my words, I wasn't completely sure. But whether he understood or not, he'd soon find out. I poured a healthy mound of salt into the wound, kneading it inside.

There is always that split second when you think the pain won't come. Then it explodes and you're in agony. I smiled in a sweetly innocent way as he screamed, his eyes locking onto mine for yet another second, somehow still hanging onto the hope that this all might be a dream.

I would have to fix that.

Please review!

Me