If the ring fits

In his dream, Doumeki had chased after him when he had run away from the temple, and rescued him from the spirit gnawing on his leg. Dreams must have been close realities because not only had the spirit succeeded in effectively ripping off his clothes-but proceeded to lick up his bare alabaster limb as his back grounded down into the hot cement of the road, scalding his back as he tried not to writhe in pain from the provocative touch. Sweat began to dot his pink-tinged skin, he felt guilty and dirty. It's not like he had been rejected, but all the same he allowed himself to submit to the monster's advances, because beggars weren't choosers, and he could at the least escape with his life-hopefully. He shouldn't have cared either, but acceptance usually came before understanding and found he did the former, puzzling himself and leaving him emotional and impulsive like he had been that afternoon. He was being shameless, letting this humanoid boar-resembling creature lick him like a delicious treat like the ones he cooked from time to time. Having its way with him, like the slut he was. He covered his left eye, unbeknownst to him, darkening from its unusual gold to a woodsy hazel.

Save me he inwardly pleads.

He had never really been told how much he looked like his grandfather until he turned sixteen. They would remark his broad shoulders, his cool and collected demeanour, stunning good looks, saying that the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Even when they pointed out he was simply the spitting image of his grandfather in his youth, he knew better. They were wrong and he knew the truth behind the ochre eyes, the ones that pierced through your soul and dictated you, differentiating the departed from the alive. Those beautiful sharp, brass, almost gold eyes.

Those eyes hadn't been passed down to him by genes, he wasn't born with them. His own eyes were a very strange brown and subtle hazel. He had those eyes until he turned sixteen. And no, he hadn't gotten them through puberty or anything dumb like that. Someone closed to him had died, and that was how he had realized bitterly the mystery behind the unearthly ochre eyes.

After all, he had made a deal with a spirit himself.

She still had the black hood pulled up, sheltering her from the downpour of the rain. It hadn't obstructed her face though, wet, big brown eyes looking at his warmly. She gushed blood from her mouth as she bit back a wheezing cough, but she still continued to smile, and he wondered if she was mocking him, even as close to death as she was, hunched over her protectively was the crying brown eyed Shizuka. She covered his two eyes with fingers darkened in her own blood. Before he could register the full itching sensation under his lids, he had grabbed his head into his own hands and screamed in agony.

The excruciating pain attacked his eyes from the inside out, gauging them in place, again and again. His retinas tore, and when she dropped her hand away, he was blinded, seeing nothing but the milky sea around him. The pain of torture grasped him as he blindly looked for her hand, unable to search with unseeing eyes, worn at the sting of tears. Maybe it was better this way, to ease his suffering, unable to see her as his important person died in front of him. But she wouldn't make it easier.

She sought his hand, and struggled to pull herself up and grabbed his shoulders for leverage. If he hadn't been so paralyzed by his own pity party, he probably could have mustered the courage to hold her close. She kissed his lips, last words on her sour breath, sour with the stench of blood, smearing the gross fluid on to his own lips. His vision returned to him slowly, and with sharpened clarity he recalled her body-coiled around his, as if meant to wrap around his in death's embrace. Her hood had dropped down, and he grasped the familiar ebony locks desperately, bending her in half as he kissed her more aggressively, reflecting the longing, the sadness, the passion that was once their friendship. Memories. When he had turned the bend around the school, and she was fitted between the two narrow walls of the school's buildings, wearing nothing but a cotton pair of panties and a bra as the foreigner dressed into what he recognized as his school's uniform. The other encounters around school, attracted to her oddness, to her… and they unexpectedly became friends. Close ones.

Her eyes were just as beautiful and big, even more when enhanced with his new eyesight, reflecting shining gold orbs in her own. Reality dispelled around him as a cat-eyed girl appeared behind her, holding the small's girl's shoulders and smirking at him (1.) "What are you willing to sacrifice?" the woman asked, short cropped jet black hair floating by her temples in wisps. She batted her gold eyes at him and hugged the girl closer to her chest, chains shackling the girl to her. He looked down and his forehead crumpled in distress. His own next words startled him, and he felt heartless. "There is nothing I can do." He muttered, and feebly prayed that he was dreaming. People didn't just up and die shackled to creepy spirits. Despite his religious heritage, he couldn't bring himself to believe any of it.

'Even if you don't believe in religion, it's something you fall back on-and you will always believe in someone and something. Atheist or not. What's reassuring is that it'll always be there for you, whether you want it to or not. And nothing can change that." She smiled at him nervously. "Well, its belief and you can decide what to do with it."

He didn't have to believe any of it. So he went along. "I'm not sure, any suggestions?" she smiled wickedly but it appeared more as a grimace. "I hate that kind of attitude-"she tapped a slender, long finger nail over the girl's throat like cat's claws. His eyes widened at the drops of blood falling from her neck. Keep calm. Keep calm. He thought, overwhelmed by her prolonged suffering, even after death. "Should we play with this toy-see, it can sing!" the cat girl squealed in delight as she began to sing, just as she always did.

'I'd like to escape a thousand miles somewhere away from home, where everyone loves everyone and I am not alone...' her lyrics faded, eyes opening in slits.

"Just spare her!" he yelled with reckless abandon, unaware that the words had already been shouted. The cat girl giggled in amusement. "That's better. I'll take what I want later." She grinned in triumph, dropping the bleeding corpse.

He had woken up at home, and everyone thought he was insane.

No lie, he probably was.

This is part one of my original chapter seven! I'm uploading it in installment because of how long it is. How was it?

1. Yes its the cat girl from XXXHoLiC I didn't want to use the Spider lady because..just because -.-'

And yes, the lyrics are mine. I refrained from using new ones because I thought these would have more of a haunting feeling to them. Did it work?

OH! My average went up three percent!! So because of that, I'll be updating on weekends,Tuesdays at the most :3 stay tuned!