The mandatory note: I do not own Cruel Intentions.

And the memo: A part of this story was written by an amazing, brilliant, oh so talented writer who wishes to remain nameless. But I'm sure you all can figure it out if you have half a brain. -wink-

Chapter 7

A tunnel of air was being cut off second by second. Someone was grasping for oxygen, for anything, anything that could cause the unbearable squeezing in their brain to stop.

Let me sodomize you.

Let me rip you a new asshole, how fitting it will be. Let me peel your skin, strip by strip. Let me hear your voice your sorrysorrysorryI'mnevergoingtodoitagain. I will listen to it like it's the best song I've ever heard. Let me see your veins bones muscles let me feel your blood let me touch it let me realize how cold it is.

Someone was slowly heading toward the light.

And it didn't matter. It didn't matter because this someone was a carbon copy. Someone unreal. Someone who wasn't even anyone. Just a body that liked to mistake itself as a chameleon. A chameleon which was starting to have an outline of white fingers seared onto their skin.

On the bed:

You. Thrashing alarmed eyes wide body sweating. Lady Sodomizer, Lady Silly Sodomizer your hair in clumps your mouth gasping panting the joy you give me knows no boundaries at this moment, you've no idea.

Dildo in hand, I approach you. I like how it feels. The plastic protruded veins seem to throb. I stroke your hair, whisper sweet things so unbecoming of me, as though we were really lovers.

The source of these white fingers heard something in the distance. A gasp. And then a harder gasp. And then some thing's hardest gasp. The chameleon's fingertips were losing blood. And it didn't matter.

Why is it so strange? Why can't I remember any names?

A voice sounded off in the distance. Barely. Barely there even. But it reaches the almost invisible ears.

Shh,

And:

Don't you look so pretty today, Lady Sodomizer, Lady Violator.

You whimper your voice sounds so tiny teeny tiny I want to pinch your vocal cords and listen to your voice go higher higher higher until I damage it completely until I spare everybody else from listening to your goddamn voice.

Don't cry, please don't cry. Lady Blue Eyes, Lady Innocent.

Let go. Let go. Please. Let go.

Why?

Please just let go?

The snapshot clicks. And then…

Then everything snaps back into place. Without any anesthesia. It just does. The blur just clears up. The cloud lifts. And you remember. The source of those white fingers are yours. And you remember how those imprints turned bright red when you let go of their neck. And you remember how those big blue eyes slowly started losing its vulnerability. How those eyes with its own etchings in their own irises began clouding over with relief and yours turned cold.

What did I do tell me what I did wrong please Kathryn please.

Crying weeping poor baby poor dear. Aren't you just darling, such a little girl. So adorable, so frail, so inadequate.

My cheek against yours, hair against yours, I rub my skin against yours. I lick your sweaty face, tasting you. How bland.

Three seconds.

One.

The chameleon gasps for air.

Two.

The chameleon is relieved.

Three.

The chameleon lives again.

And it ends in a flash.

Your hand twitches with veins from another being, with overflowed rage before it plunges the knife it was holding right into the chameleon's gut. The chameleon is bleeding. Drenched with red down its own face. It collapses forward toward you. Disgusted, you move out of the way and let it fall. Let it fall like a tree falls in a forest with no one to hear it falling. With no one to see it either. Because technically the tree isn't really there. It was never really a tree. It just liked to pretend to be one. What this fallen tree really was, was a mirror that liked to bask in the glow of the sun. In the rays that came its way because of the tree's great delusions. And you wait another second.

You struggle, wrists and ankles chafed from the ropes the bed jerks as though alive. Pink cheeks, pink face, ripe for biting ripe for eating let me take your head from your body like I'm picking a fruit.

My nails scratching your chest downwards downwards. My plastic friend, Mr. Pleasure Giver, Mr. Weapon of Choice, he seems to come alive in my other hand.

My teeth nibbling your earlobe every breath out of my mouth is a request: Lady Sodomizer, cry louder louder do it louder it's not enough it's never enough.

You wait for the rage to hit full force again in your body before you stab the gleaming red knife into the tree's back. Again and again and again.

You yelp. The pain oh the pain please stop it please oh god please.

Don't you know don't you know anything whatsoever, Lady Halloween Mask, Lady Sweaty Face?

Let me educate you. Let me show you.

Mr. Weapon of Choice. Inside you. Not there, but there. There. There. Where it hurts the most.

Oh god god god

Because this is who you are. You are fucked up. You are cold-blooded.

You do not hold back because castration in this scenario is nothing to you. It only seems fitting.

The agony in your voice! Yes, Yes, Yes louder do it louder you wanted this you wanted this you know it you had it coming you know it!

In and out, in and out, Mr. Pleasure Giver, Mr. Pain Inducer.

You shove the side of the tree with its tainted bark over until you see your target. The tree is rustling, twitching in agony. Carving out its center while a continuous scream sounds off far far away, all you feel is a cold draft in your veins.

My teeth biting your ear. Harder harder.

More more more Mr. Weapon of Choice is bleeding, only not really. It isn't his blood, is it?

Stop it oh god please stop it sorrysorrysorry Kathryn oh god please.

But I don't stop. I can't stop.

You are… no… correction. I.

I cannot spare those who delude themselves into thinking they are something they are not. Into thinking that imitation is the best form of flattery.

Because really. Really, it's a slap in the face. And when someone slaps me in the face. I consider it an invitation to a duel they would never be ready for.

I feel nothing when the chameleon on the floor dripping red reverts back to its original self.

There. I have let you go. Do you feel better? Have fun being someone's toy in hell.

Doesn't feel good, does it?

How did you think it was going to feel?

--

The fog inverts itself and lands me back on the floor of Kathryn's bathroom. Back onto solid ground where I can feel lucidity coming back full force. Where there is a dead ringing in my ears and a throbbing in my temples. For a second there is no sound and I turn and see a mouth moving.

"So that's what happened?"

I nod my head.

"Does Kathryn remember?"

We both glanced over at her sleeping form.

"I haven't told her but I wouldn't put it past her either way."

"The little princess does like to fuck with our heads doesn't she?"

I smirk at this. Yes she does.

"I wonder where she gets all her help from." I quip.

"And where exactly do you get all your help from Valmont? Don't kick the help for assisting others. It's not my fault the two of you are so fucked up and always call to get rid of the carnage."

Blaine chuckles from his position on the floor and places his left arm onto the toilet seat cover before resting his head on it. Looking at me sideways, he sighs.

"Don't you two ever get tired of fucking each other over? And let's not even get into the people that fall prey around the both of you."

I tuck a fluffy towel down from a handle above me and throw it on the floor. Lying my body down and moving until my head settled comfortably on the towel, I prop my right leg up in an A-form. I decide to wait a while before answering. Closing my eyes for just a second.

Breathing fills the silence.

The constant ringing continues piercing all my brain cells and I am taken back. Silhouette meets silhouette in the dead of night. One slumps forward and drops something that clunks loudly on the floor. And there is a moment, a moment where the fire within their souls have simmered down to ashes. And in its place an ache that cannot be kneaded.

"It's not that we don't get tired Blaine. It's just in our natures."

"You know eventually, you two will end up killing each other."

I mull over this. Not exactly new information, but I try to digest it differently all the same.

And then…

I smile because I can't help it.

"Eventually."

Blaine chuckles and shakes his head.

"And eventually one day, I am going to walk in on you two fucking each other like the true fags you are."

We turn to see Kathryn stirring and quirking an eyebrow at us with a smirk on her face.

"How long have you two been sitting around here?"

I opened my mouth to retort when she holds up a hand.

"Spare me. My ass hurts from falling asleep in this position. I need to get to bed."

My eyes gleam with mischief and she notices before kicking my head that happened to be near her foot.

"Ow, you fucking bitch!"

She rolls her eyes and pushes herself up. Blaine goes and helps her while I cradle my now bruising head. Damn her and her violent tendencies.

--

Review if you have the balls. If not, hope you had fun anyways.