I will trade it all for another day just to feel you and your warmth.

Waking up as the sun goes down, I'm amazed that I slept through the whole day. The dregs of dreams swirl around my subconscious as I crawl out from the tangled comforter. Small paws against my leg and the steady thump of a briskly wagging tail alert me to my hungry room mates. Picking Gadzooks up and reaching my free hand down to pet Speedy's smooth coat, I lead them into the kitchen and start preparing their dinner. Setting Gadzooks back onto the floor, I pull the tupperware container of cooked chicken from the fridge and, on autopilot, scoop a bit into each dog bowl. My eyes stray to the calendar on the fridge, smiling at the picture of puppies piled into a red wagon. Moving my gaze to today's date, the smile slowly dissolves. Its departure is joined by a dull ache that spreads through my body and settles into my chest. My hands jerk, sending the container of chicken tumbling to the floor, much to the dog's delight.

It snuck up on me. 

The ache in my chest seems to turn into a fist clenched around the still and useless organ residing behind my rib cage. 

How could I have forgotten?

I leave the kitchen in a hurry, Gadzooks and Speedy still snatching mouthfuls of the spilled meat. Stepping out into the hallway, I slip my boots on and pull a hoodie over my pajamas. Stopping only long enough to grab a small box from the closet, I slip into Obfuscate and dart out the front door. As always, I glance towards the still broken down Jetta, moldering in the driveway. The hand clenches tighter around my heart, and I put on extra speed as I make my way through the woods, towards Baltimore.

It's still early as I enter the city, so the police activity is limited. The park is sparsely inhabited, and the few people loitering around unconsciously turn away, repelled by even my unseen presence. It takes little time to find the spot, and even lesser time to find the tree. Even a year later. Even without the tire tracks in the dirt. Even without the bullet holes in my flesh.

Somehow, even uninjured, I'm still in as much pain as I was a year ago today. The grass is soft and cool as I kneel, a mere foot away from the exposed roots of the tree. My hands creep into the front of my hoodie, pulling the box from my pocket. With trembling fingers, I open it, and nestled in the plush interior next to an ipod and a small fuse, is a picture. His face perpetually smiles up at me, in that self conscious way. My own face is obscured, pressed into his shoulder despite what was likely a hefty attempt to get me to look into the camera. I want to smile back, but that hand clenches into a fist, and I quickly set the box and photo aside. Blinking away a film of red, I stare into the roots of the tree. Any damage from that night seems have been covered by fresh bark. Too look at it, you wouldn't know anything happened at all. I reach my hand out, pressing my palm to the bark and closing my eyes.

Like a movie I've watched a thousand times, replayed in my head. The buzz of the drone, the growl of the four wheeler's engine. They're shooting. They're chasing. We're running, but Alex is falling behind. Alex is falling, but I lift him. I carry him, and shield his body with mine. His voice begs in my thoughts, telling me to run, telling me to leave him behind. Telling me he loves me. I hold him with one arm and climb, fruitlessly hoping the tree will lend some sort of shelter from the hail of bullets. Some sort of protection. Pulling myself onto one of the thicker branches, I gasp as another bullet tears through my shoulder. Momentarily distracted, I only half notice Alex's body jerking against me. My attention focuses just as the burden of his weight leaves my arms in a choking cloud of ash. My hands grasp at the air, and the sound of the engine, the drone, and the gunfire are drowned out by my agonized cry. The ground rushes towards me as I leap from the tree and run for my life. My life. Just my life.

The bark sheds under my hands as I dig my claws into the trunk. Opening my eyes again, I allow the tears to escape. My little offerings to his memory.
"Alex. I'm so sorry. I'm still sorry."
Speaking to no one, my voice barely carries.
"How could it have been so long ago? It hurts like it just happened."

I move from my knelt position, leaning against the tree and pulling the box with his picture in it back into my lap. I speak to his image. I speak to the bit of him left in my heart.
"I still love you like I always have. Who said it would hurt less? Maybe it was Sailix. Maybe it was Troy, sounds like something stupid that he would say. It doesn't hurt any less. I wake up every night and I hope that I'm dead. Dead like you are. Dead where you are."
I wipe a spot of red that splashes onto the picture, my collar jingling merrily.
"You'd be... I think you'd be so ashamed of what I've become. What I've done with you not here. I can't help but think I would be better if you were still with me. You were my light. You made me believe I was more than just... what I am."
The park remains quiet, save for my own whispers.
"I miss you." I choke down a sob. "I miss you so much, Alex. I know it wasn't you with Rook, but I wanted to stay. Even knowing it wasn't really you, I wanted to stay."
Touching the tree bark again, I get the same images as before.
"Even reliving this. Just seeing you again, even like this. If this is hell like I've always thought, I think I reached the ninth circle the night you died."

Dropping my Obfuscate, I glance around the grounds, almost hoping someone sees me. Almost hoping that the bullets start flying again. There's nobody but me. I press my other hand against the tree and close my eyes, reliving the night Alex died over and over. I sit until I think my heart will crumble into ash with the memory of his body in my arms. I sit until some near lost sense of self preservation brings me to my feet and leads my feet back home.

Haven't they suffered enough, they're damaged more than they can bear.

Plucking Tullius's phone from his hand, Troy's paltry explanation is cut off mid-sentence as I send the device flying into the wall. From the other side of the room, eyes cast down, Tommy doesn't react, pressing his palm flat against his forehead. I pace, my expression fluctuating between anger and hurt as I argue with Troy in my head. His words incense me, and I heft a table, flinging it across the room. It smashes, small splinters flying in all directions, bouncing off Tullius's mask. The otherwise quiet room is filled with my screams, the sound echoing in my thoughts as I rage at Troy.
"THEY TRIED TO KILL TOMMY! YOU FUCKING HELPED THEM!"
More furniture is destroyed, as I'm overwhelmed by the crushing feeling of guilt.

If I were with Tommy, he would have been completely safe. Vogtman would be alive. The guard dog. My equal. My equivalent. Yet another person trapped by Bernito. Forced to kill for him and forced to die for him.

A wordless shriek, and another hole in the foundation of the house.

And now they'll try to kill us. They'll try to kill us and we'll try to kill them and none of us will ever get closer to killing him. 

I rip my own phone from my pocket, scrolling through names until I find one of my Sabbat friends. My claws grow of their own accord, and my voice is a low growl, meant for my own ears.
"They wanted someone to kill. I'll give them someone. All of them. Every one who laid a hand on him."

But I don't dial the number. Instead, I crush the phone in my fist. Seeking more destruction, I seize a nearby chair and lift it over my head.

I'll kill them all myself. I'll burn the fucking barony. I'll burn the casino. I'll tear pieces from Troy and Caleb and Freak and anyone who dared...anyone who was stupid enough to go through me to get Bernito.

Blinking, I shake my head frantically, trying to clear the images of the already sky high body count. People that were monsters. People that were innocent. I lower the chair, glancing at Tullius, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable from under his mask. I see Tommy, leaning against the wall, shell shocked and vulnerable.

I almost lost him. I almost lost my Tommy.

I look up at them. I look at what I have, I look at what I can't bear to let go. The chair drops from my clawed hands and I drop on the floor next to it. Balling my fists up, I bury my face in them, pressing hard against my eyes in a vain attempt to stop the flow of tears. The floor creaks slightly, as one of them starts to approach.
"Don't!"
My tone is a desperate mix of rage and sorrow, and the room is still again. I stay like that, knelt and sobbing, for minutes or hours. I don't even know. Eventually I'm approached again, and either Tommy or Tullius stoop down and lift me into their arms. My throat aches from shrieking, my body feels worn and fatigued. I'm laid down on a mattress, and immediately after, another body joins mine. Hearing departing footsteps, I let out a shrill sob. "Please don't leave us." A sigh, and a third body climbs onto the bed. I curl between Tommy and Tullius, moving my hands from my now closed eyes and grasping both of theirs. It's in that position that I finally escape consciousness, and abandon the horrors of the night for their counterparts in my dreams.

https://youtu.be/bIc-cGsFDOU

There's nothing left to lose. The fight never ends. I can't face the dark without you.

Hood pulled over my hair, I make my way through the empty street towards the dark and currently vacant club. Passing by the front doors, I pause, remembering the security measures. I contemplate, picking lightly at the front of my sweatshirt before guilt wins over as the predominant emotion. My hand drops to my side and I move towards the garage entrance. A single car is parked at the far end of the garage. Abandoned, by the look of it. I move towards the entrance, punching in a code and quickly swinging the door shut behind me as I enter the living quarters of the club. It's the same as it always is, except empty and devoid of comfort.

I breathe in through my nose, inhaling only a faint residual scent of my best friend. Frowning, I reach behind my back. The blade becomes visible as I place my hand on the hilt, pulling it free from the harness and relieving myself of it's weight. Swinging it in front of me, the blade makes a shrill sound as it briskly cuts through the air. With a sigh, I lay the sword on a table, stroking my hand over the metal. It's perfect. Beautiful, even. But Sailix's hand should be gripping it's hilt, not mine. I stare down at the weapon, swallowing the lump in my throat and standing, useless, in the middle of the room. I did what I came for, I should just go. 

Instead, I unzip my hoodie, pulling it off and tossing it across a chair. Settling down on the couch, I tuck my hands under my thighs in a meager attempt to avoid them turning against me.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sailix."

The sound of my own voice makes me jump. Peering around the room, I sigh again.
"We'll be making our move, soon." Fighting to keep the sorrow from my tone, I continue speaking to no one.

"I've never been out of the country. It'd be exciting if I wasn't so sure that I'm going to fucking die over there..." My brief burst of laughter sounds more like a sob.
"I could really use...I really need your help. I told you I can't do this without you. I'm running out of reasons to try. I'm about to walk into a war zone and I...I always thought you'd have my back."

I curl my shoulders in, cowering as my voice grows more frantic.

"All I have is Tommy. I know he can survive without me, but I think we all know I can't survive without him. So I'm going to go over there...I'm going to fight for him. I'm going to fight to keep him alive but who is fighting to keep me alive? Who...who cares enough to have my back?! Who cares enough to make sure -I- stay alive?!"

The tears start, again. I almost bruise my face, angrily wiping the moisture from my cheeks.
"I let you in. I showed you my scars and you said...you said they were beautiful. But you chose him over me! As if...like he's less of a monster than me. Like he's the preferable option."

My wail echoes in the empty room, even as I bury my face in my hands. All I can see is Sailix's eyes, burning into mine like a literal fire. I feel them on me, but when I look up, vision blurred with red tears, I'm still alone. I wipe at my face again, halfheartedly, before rising from the couch. Leaving the sword on the table, I make my way towards the exit, pausing for a moment. My hand creeps to my throat, rubbing the tag on my collar between my fingers. I turn my face up, setting eyes on the security camera facing the door. Staring at it for a moment, I struggle to keep my tone and expression calm and even. 

"You don't have to lie to me."

With that, I swing the door open, punching the code to lock it and stepping out into the cold.

https://youtu.be/BjrtITY69q0

The midnight hours come slowly creeping when there's no one there but you.

Another group of party-goers make their way past us, giving us wide berth and wary glances. Giving me wide berth and wary glances. Untouched glass of wine in his hand, Tommy keeps me at his side. He should be melding well with the guests, would be, if not for the garish monster hanging off his arm. I stare down at my scuffed boots and fishnets, out of place among the stiletto heels and dresses that probably cost more than I've ever been worth as a person. Slavco and Kirkpatrick run a poker table, and I'm at least relieved to see that Kirkpatrick put a fresh shirt over the claw marks across his chest. Tommy mentions the name of some senator or governor entertaining a group nearby, his expression eager and animate as he leads us closer. I drag my feet, releasing his arm and mumbling something about going to the bathroom before moving away from both he and the group of Kine.

I try not to feel hurt as he seems to not notice my departure, greeting the humans with his television smile and contrived charisma. I chalk it up to his lack of socialization and make my way out to the boat's blissfully empty deck. The air is frigid enough to keep the ones that still notice such things inside. I make my way to the stern, trying to block out the sound of the music pumping through the boat's speakers. Leaning against the railing, I breathe the smell of saltwater through my empty lungs, watching Tommy through the windows of the cabin. Within the spare minutes of leaving his side, he's already collected a flock. He speaks animatedly, gesturing with his wine glass, seeming to summon a round of laughter from the surrounding mortals with no effort. A young woman slinks up to him, speaking close to his ear with a suggestive smile. He returns the smile, placing his hand on the small of her back. Turning away quickly, I direct my attention out to the water with a clenched jaw.

I watch the foam and waves left in the boat's wake, resting my feet on the safety railing and holding my hand out into the air. I force my fingers to unclamp from a fist, wincing as my nails retract from the skin of my palm. Small drops of blood well up and drop down into the waiting water. I turn my eyes to the skyline and concentrate on fighting down the seething jealousy and envy. Wasted emotions, especially considering everything going on. I try to force myself into at least an attempt at tranquility, if anything, to accomplish Tommy's request before we joined the Caitiff's boat party. I shake the blood from my palm and grip the railing, closing my eyes and letting the wind whip at my face. I try to imagine being one of them inside the cabin. Classy and rich and content on spending my night gambling and imbibing in booze and recreational drugs. Perhaps watching the sun rise over the water from the warmth of a fur coat or a lover's arms. I cock my head to the side, trying to hold the fantastical image as the music plays on.

Forcing air dismissively from my lungs, I open my eyes, rolling them at myself. Resting my chin on my hand, I'm about to settle into my fallback plan of brooding alone when I feel hands grip my hips firmly. Tommy lifts me from my perch on the railing, turning me to face him with ease. I drop my hands to my sides, glancing up at him almost guiltily. His hazel eyes meet mine with warmth and affection as he gently pulls his fingers through my windblown hair. A familiar song comes over the speakers, and he kisses me, stating "We're dancing." I balk slightly, glancing nervously towards the denizens of the party. Tommy's expression grows stern, and he repeats the order. I allow him to move us onto the open part of the deck, unable to keep a smile from my face as he steps away, my hand in his, only to pull me gracefully into his arms. He leads, holding me close as we step and spin to the music. Singing along to the song in a deep baritone, Tommy brushes my hair from my face, trailing his fingers along my scalp and resting his hand at the base of my neck before pulling my lips to his. I set my palms on his chest and my cheek against his shoulder as he places another kiss on my forehead and whispers that he loves me. I close my eyes, feeling safe and almost normal. My gratitude seems to cover a vast list of concerns as I murmur, "Thank you, Tommy."

https://youtu.be/6cMaXOl04qQ

Still enough, although I know you're not begging. Still as the thoughts running through your mind.

It's been hours since Tommy retreated into his study. Little noise comes from the room, save for almost rhythmic scratching of pencil on paper. I refrain from my restless pacing, Gadzooks following closely at my heels as I make my way down the hall. Tommy's door is open, and I leave Gadzooks in the hallway as I cross the threshold into the room. Kneeling by his feet, I glance at the piles of maps that Tommy is fixated on. With a compass, he draws several wide and intersecting circles. He retrieves a bullet from his revolver, placing it at the center of one of the circles. I settle back onto my heels, turning my attention to his face, watching in silence as he continues to work. His expression is exhausted, almost drawn. Hesitant, I quietly inquire "...what are you doing?"
He highlights a line on a spreadsheet, then ticks off a corresponding place on his map. Before reaching for his compass, Tommy replies, "Marking radar stations in San Lorenzo."
"Oh," My brow furrows."Why?"
He traces another circle after measuring on his compass. "To keep you safe."
I lean forward, looking at the map again, still uncomprehending. "How will that keep me safe?"
Tommy points with his fingers to a place on the map just above Florida. Then, he pulls his finger down through the gulf of Mexico, then in the space between the circles he's drawn. I frown, feeling perplexed but not wanting to press him with more question. He sets the compass down. "Your plane will have to avoid the radar stations, little one. If not, you may die."

"Ooh," I repeat, with slightly more understanding. Leaning lightly against the side of his chair, I turn my face to the doorway, watching Gadzooks lick her paws. "So you're not...you're staying here?"
"I don't know, yet. He hasn't said anything. Just keeps having the big guy send me documents." Tommy presses his hand against his face.
My gaze grows unfocused, mouth still pulled into a frown. "Do you want to go?"
"No, little one." His voice is muffled slightly by his hand.
"I..." I close my mouth, not finishing the sentence. I turns to face Tommy, my expression concerned. I rest my cheek against his thigh with a small sound of distress. His hand comes down to cup the back of my head, stroking gently. "I don't want to go, either."
"You don't have to, little one," he replies. "I can handle myself against him."
In a tone lacking certainly, I reply: "I know you can," I look up at Tommy from my spot at his feet. "But I can't let you...I can't not do everything I can to keep you safe."
"You need to learn to let me go, if it's my time to go, little one," Tommy states with a sigh. His tone is tired, unnaturally so, and oddly monosyllabic.
"No," I reply, feeling almost angry. "No. I'm not going to. I'm tired of having to let go. You deserve a place in this existence more than I do. When I.." I swallow a gulp of air down my throat, "..if I have to die again to keep you alive..."

My words are cut off abruptly as Tommy takes his hand from the back of my head, picks up his revolver, and smashes the handle of the gun down on my skull. Plainly, and without much ado, he states, "No." I cry out in pain, holding my hand against my head and staring at Tommy, almost comically confused. From the doorway, Gadzooks begins barking, but I still hear Tommy clearly over the din. "You are not permitted to die, little one. Never again." He places the gun onto the table, kisses my hand before resuming his drawing.
Dropping my hand into my lap, still feeling dazed, I reply: "Then why..." I hesitate. "Why, when it comes to the possibility of you dying, do I just have to learn to let you go?"
As he traces another circle, Tommy states, "Because you are unique, beautiful, worthy. I am replaceable, monstrous, and lacking in purpose. You are alone in the wonder of your creation, little one."
Almost scoffing, I counter, "That's wrong. You're...wrong. Are you actually crazy?" As soon as the words escape my lips, I regret them. "I'm sorry, Tommy."
"No." Again the gun is brought down on the top of my head.
Blinking away tears of pain, I scoot away from Tommy, speaking over Gadzook's frantic barks. "..why did you hit me?"
He replaces the revolver onto the table, then continues his work. "You will not deny me in this, little one. You may not realize your worth, the cosmological improbability of your existence, but you will not insult me for being aware."
Shushing the dog, I stare down into my lap, contemplating for a moment. I pick my words carefully as I respond, "I wouldn't ever insult you, Tommy. It's got nothing to do with insult. It's...it's fact. You can survive without me. Thrive, even. I couldn't...I can't. I'm nothing on my own." My tone becomes one of sad resignation. "I've long since accepted that. I think maybe it'd be good for us if you did, too?"

Tommy places a hand on his revolver, then beckons me over with a slight jerking of his neck. "Come." Flinching, I move to his side once more. He leans down to kiss my head. "I don't enjoy hurting you, little one, but you must learn to accept what I say as truth. It is my truth, my perception."
"But..." Feeling wary, I don't continue. My posture remains rigid, as I fight against the desire to retreat.
Tommy replaces his compass and pencil on the table, then turns his chair to face me. He spreads his knees, retrieving his revolver and beckoning to me. "Come, little one. Closer."
I glance at the gun, then at Tommy's face. Hesitating, I ask in a soft tone, "Do I have to?" 
He points the gun at the floor and fires a round, his expression suddenly malicious. I jump at the sound, and hear Gadzooks's frightened yelp as she retreats down the hallway. I move closer as Tommy requests, my form still rigid and fearful. He opens his revolver's chamber, takes out the spent shot, and replaces it with one from his pocket. "Place your mouth on the gun, little one."
I recoil, responding immediately. "No,"
He shoots the gun at the ground, again. "You choose now, when both our lives depend on our mutual trust, to defy me?" he shouts the question above the sound of the shot. Under the malice, this time, hurt crosses his features for a moment.
I yelp, moving close between his legs. "I'm...I'm sorry." My tone is mewling, my lip trembles slightly. "I'll do what you say."

Tommy ejects the spent ammo again, and fills the revolver to it's previous capacity. His voice is almost concerned as I meet his eyes and shamefully part my lips to allow the barrel between them. "Be careful, little one. The barrel is warm." He presses the gun further into my mouth. "There's six bullets in the chamber, little one. Does it frighten you to know that all of them are filled with ammunition that would sear your flesh?" I start to nod, tasting metal on my tongue, but something breaks through the terror and shame, and instead I shake my head 'no'. "You didn't trust me, just a moment ago. Are you lying to me, little one? Does this frighten you?
You may be honest. Tell me, are you too afraid to trust me?"
I hesitate, my hands crossed in my lap. When I speak, my words are muffled by the gun barrel. "I trust you, but, I can't help but be afraid." I add, in a softer, but no less honest tone, "I'm sorry."
Tommy tilts the gun to the right side of my mouth, pressing the barrel against my cheek. Then he pulls the trigger. I scream out in pain, unable to take my eyes off of Tommy. Betrayal and acceptance cross my features, in turn. He turns the barrel to press against the inside of my left, unwounded cheek. "Are you going to run away from me, little one? Will you run from me, or will you stay?"
A small, fearful sound escapes from deep in my chest. Nevertheless, I keep my eyes on Tommy and reply, "...I'll stay."
He pulls the trigger again. I don't scream this time, but my face becomes a rictus of agony. He keeps the gun in my mouth, staring down at me, unmoved by my suffering. "Are you going to run from me, little one? Are you going to stop trusting me, leave me, and let him kill me?"
His words seem to cause me more pain than my wounds, and I mumble desperately, "No...no, Tommy. Never."
Tommy, not moving, responds. "Take your mouth off the gun and prepare yourself for me in your room, little one."
Blinking, I comply. "How would you like me to prepare myself, sir?" I flinch as I speak, the holes in my cheeks pulled as my jaw moves.
"Disrobe yourself, and redress. Wear the brassiere, the black lace, that I bought you. The dress, black, the strapless one. Then the training underwear I bought you last year. The one you wore when you were a shaved little child unable to do anything but crawl on the floor."
I frown, dropping my eyes to the ground. "Yes, sir." 

As I leave the room, I hear him empty the gun onto the floor and the sound of him refilling the spent chamber. Gadzooks remains hidden deep in the house, still cowering away. In my bedroom, I remove my clothing and redress as Tommy instructed, folding my discarded clothing neatly. I wait in the middle of the room, shifting from foot to foot until I hear Tommy coming down the hallway. Stilling my movements, I avert my gaze to the floor between my feet. He strides over to me with confidence and authority. "Have you done what I asked, little one?" he inquires, staring at me with inquisition. I nod, swallowing a gulp of air needlessly down my throat. "And what," he asks, "were you told to do? Tell me, and show me. Slowly." He stands back, removing a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaning the barrel of his gun.
Without fanfare, I pull the top of the dress down slightly, so that the black lace can be seen underneath."I put on the bra and the dress, and..." Expression uncomfortable, I lift the side of the dress, exposing the childish undergarments. "I put on the underwear. Like you told me to."
"Good. I can't my little girl getting scared like she did with Bernito and pissing on the floor. Get over here, on your knees, and unzip me." His smile is ever present, tongue quickly lapping at the scars on his mouth. I cringe, glad my horrified expression is hidden from Tommy. I move towards him, sinking into a kneel and unzipping his pants with trembling hands. I hear him pulling the hammer back of his gun."Unbutton, little one, then remove my cock and use your tongue."
"Yes, sir," I state, in almost a squeak.
My hands unfasten the button of his shorts, reaching for flesh behind fabric. Gripping around the base of his cock, I run my tongue along his length with a pained grimace. Glancing up, I see no pleasure in Tommy's eyes, only pain and pity. "Do it better, little one. I need it wet, I need to feel-" he cuts himself off. I comply with as much vigor as I can manage, whimpering as the movement irritates the wounds on my cheeks. "Less tongue, little one, more mouth. Improve, or you'll not be feeling my cock in your pussy." He leers down at me, instructing with a chuckle in his tone. Much of the previously present pain seems to have left his expression. I squeeze my eyes shut, taking him deep into my throat as I desperately try to please him. Tommy gives a small grunt of satisfaction. "Better, little one. Much better." 

Before withdrawing himself from my mouth, he rests the hand with the gun in it on my shoulder, firing a bullet into the back of my calf. My eyes snap open and my face turns up to him. I blink back tears, managing one agonized word,"..why?"
Tommy steps back, then once again releases the chamber to replace the spent shot. "Pull yourself up, little one. Tear your dress up and plug up your mouth with it. Place it deep enough down that I don't even have to hear a murmur. Then, you are allowed to get on the bed." 
I keep my eyes on Tommy for a few moments, knelt, with my palms braced against the floor. With effort, I force myself to my feet, keeping the weight off my wounded left leg. Dropping my gaze to my hands, I begin shredding the dress, placing the pieces in my mouth like a gag.
Tommy watches me with mild amounts of satisfaction, his eyes moving from my face, to my breasts, and down to the rest of my body. "Next, the brassiere. Sit down on the edge of the bed and show me your breasts. Any more hesitations, little one, and you won't get my cock in your adorable little pussy." Frowning, I avoid his gaze and move to the edge of the bed, settling onto the mattress ungracefully. My hands move to lower my dress and remove my bra, exposing my chest. Tommy follows my to the bed, cock erect and revolver in hand. "Continue to suckle, little one. I'm still not convinced you deserve my cock. For your sake, convince me." My mouth still stuffed with the shreds of my dress, I look up at Tommy through the fringe of my bangs. My expression turns unsure. Tommy smiles, jovial despite my fear. "I gave you two new holes, little one. Use them."
I put my hand to my face, gently touching one wounded cheek. Almost regretfully, I shake my head, bowing my face as I do so. "You won't fuck my cock with your wounds, little one?" Tommy asks, calmly and slowly. I shake my head again, shoulders turn inward in shame. Tommy looks hurt, merely commanding "Then turn over and get up on your knees, little one. If you would rather use those holes, I will oblige you."

Still shaking my head slightly, I nevertheless turn over without meeting Tommy's eyes. Pained, I keep my weight leaned on my right leg as I kneel. I feel his hand between my legs, mutely staring down at the mattress while Tommy chides me. "With all the misbehaving you're doing, I may have to restrict your clothing for quite a while, little one. I may have to begin treating you like my whore instead of my lover. Would you approve of that?" He begins to pull down the undergarments. I shake my head again, making no sound and keeping my body as still as possible. "I love you, Madelyn, but you insist on denying that. You act ungrateful, you push my buttons intentionally, and you act like a child when I tell you to take my cock."
Tommy rips the underwear, placing two fingers inside me. I close my eyes, hoping he doesn't notice the involuntary stiffening in my posture. "You had a choice between my cock and this gun, little one." He cocks back the hammer again. "And you chose incorrectly."

Giving in to my terror, I whimper through the wad of cloth in my mouth. I tense as I hear the sound of the gun, balling my fists in expectation to another bullet. Instead, I feel cold metal pressed roughly between my legs. Tommy thrusts the barrel deeply inside of me, vigorously violating me as he growls, "Do you want me to blow my load, little one? Is that what you want from me?"
I choke on the gag, shrieking as my fists slip on the mattress. Pawing desperately at the fabric in my mouth, I spit the gag out, tearfully begging. "Tommy, please...please stop! Please don't...don't make me...please!"
Tommy withdraws the gun, only to force it into my ass, pulling up hard on the handle. I feel blood streaming from between my legs as he rips the flesh between my legs with the weapon."Is this better Madelyn? Is this what you wanted when you decided to disobey me?" I sob, incoherently pleading with him and struggling as he holds me with his free hand. Tommy's voice is heard clearly over my screams."If I were to unload in you, there wouldn't be any difference in what you are. If I shot this into your cunt, you wouldn't get pregnant, you wouldn't have a child, no family, just a cunt filled with either a bullet or my cum. You have one purpose, and it is to serve Thomas Maletoni!" I press my face into the bed, wailing and still struggling feebly. He continues to force the gun into me over and over again, pressing his erection against me as he does. "Beg me not to fucking kill you, Madelyn. Beg me not to fill your fucking guts with fire and beg me to fill you with my cock."
I sputter out: "P-please Tommy...sir. Don't..." but a shudder wracks my body and I'm unable to continue.
Tommy presses the gun harder into me, then retrieves it to replace it with his cock. He rides my torn and worn flesh, holding me by my hips with the revolver balanced on the small of my back. "You are welcome for your life, Madelyn. You are welcome for your purpose. You are welcome for my cock." I remain on my knees for him, yet almost completely unresponsive save for the faint sounds of my sobbing into the mattress. Tommy continues thrusting into the bleeding ruin between my legs. With a groan and a shudder, he ejaculates, holding me firmly by the hips. I attempt to move out from under him, and he grips tighter. "No, little one. You can't leave me, you will stay here until the dawn comes. You and I will be intertwined, and I will always be inside you."
"...please" I whimper, trapped in his grasp, utterly broken.
He smacks my bottom with a flat palm, and replies, "No, little one. This will continue to happen if you don't learn to accept your role. I attempt to coddle you, I know, but this is a reminder.
I love you, and you belong to me. You will obey."

With a sob, I reply, "How can you say that you..." I hitch in a needless breath. "You don't. You can't love me."
Tommy rests both hands on my hips, gently. "We're monsters, Madelyn. We don't love the same as the Kine, but I love you as only God can love his children."
I try to move again, overcome with memories from decades ago, desperate to escape. "...you're just like him." I succumb to tears once more.
"It's okay, little one. You're right, but it's okay to hate God sometimes. This is the love we share, and we will share for eternity."
I shake my head at his misunderstanding. "No. No, you're wrong." Tommy continues to rock inside of me, petting my hair and holding me in place. "Stop," I beg.
"No," he states, retrieving the revolver. "Little one, you are mine. You must accept this. We belong to each other, we belong together."
"I'm yours. I'm yours and you know I'm yours.." My words come out unsettled and quiet. "I won't run. I won't leave you. Please, just let me.." I trail off.
"You can't leave this room. You know that, little one? Even if you leave, you'll never really leave. We've never left, and we'll always be here." He pulls himself out of me.
I give a sickened moan at his words, but remains still. "May I move...please?"
"Yes, little one."

I crawl away from Tommy to cower against the headboard. I force my eyes to him, unable to keep the image of my maker from my thoughts. He pulls his zipper up, his slacks soaked through with my blood, the gun still help lazily in his hand. "We'll start again tomorrow, little one."
My gaze grow more frightened. "No, Tommy. Please. Why...why do you need to hurt me again?"
"I don't plan on hurting you, little one, but you need to learn to listen. Obedience is paramount to survival."
"I'll be good," I insist, cringing weakly against the headboard. "I-I'll be good for you."
"I hope you will, little one," Tommy smiles offering his hand to me. "Or I will fill your guts with fire."
I'm unable to return the smile, wary and hesitant to take his hand.
Tommy stands, flourishing his coat and pointing the gun in the air, he exclaims: "This! This is what I mean, little one. You didn't learn anything! You must learn to accept without hesitation, to embrace without a single lull in action. That is how we survive."
I turn my face away, burying it in my hands. "I can't...keep doing this. I can't. I can't do it again..." I repeat this as a mantra, curling into myself, voice growing more and more desperate.

Tommy returns to my side, pressing the gun against my clavicle. "Madelyn, I love you. I love you more than anyone has loved before. There is a world of horror and terror outside these walls, but this is our sanctuary. I will protect you, but you must endure what I demand. That is how we survive." I look to him, whimpering like a prey animal, hoping he can't see my urge to pull away from him. He smiles in appreciation, and irrationally, I feel fractionally less frightened. "If I pull this trigger, you could die. You could die and be lost again to the other side. This close to death, does it terrify you as it does me? Do you fear the moment when you no longer live? Does this make you wish to run? To run and sleep and hope that the world will fade if you just fucking leave it alone?"
"S-stop. Please? You're scaring me, Tommy." I shrink away from the feel of the gun, staring up at Tommy with frightened, tear filled eyes. My voice is small and childlike as I continue. "I'd rather die for...for you. For you, over anything else."
"I don't want you to, little one. I don't know... I don't know if I'll be able to put you back together, again. The first time, it took so much. I'm not strong enough, I don't have anything left to give up." He tosses the gun to the floor, part of the handle breaking as it hits the wood. "You're all I have, little one. We have to be as one, now."

I stare at Tommy, my mouth opening slightly, as if to respond, but I close it after a moment. A bevy of emotion crosses the forefront of my mind. With a sense of surrendering, I move away from the headboard and hold my arms open to Tommy. He falls into my embrace, grasping tightly to me. "I need you to be mine, Madelyn. That's the only way I can keep you safe. If you're gone, then all of this was for nothing. All of it."
I pull Tommy to my chest, clinging just as tightly to him as he does to me. My hands still retain a slight tremble. "I'll always be yours. I owe my existence to you. Everything I am...everything I have is yours." I place my palm to his cheek.
"I am nothing, now, little one. Caring for you is all I have left. My business, my home, my own soul. He's taken everything from me, and I can't go to Hell just yet. I want our time together, I need you to live."
Tommy's words draw fresh tears from me. I kiss him gently, my own tone is soft and full of crooning adoration. "He won't take me from you. No one will. I'll fix this, Tommy. OK? I'll fix this for you. Everything I can do...I'll do it. I won't let anyone hurt you."
"There's nothing that can be done, little one. I gave up everything so that he would teach me to bring you back. Everything. There's nothing left to fix. There's just this house, this room, and that stupid fucking gun."
Tommy begins to heave, his chest rising as he coughs up blood. Panicked, I pull my hands from him. "Tommy? What's wrong?!"
He vomits off the side of the bed, the blood pooling onto the hardwood. He idly wipes a hand across his mouth, attempting a smile through blood red teeth. "Nothing, little one. Just anxiety, you know."
I wipe at his face with a shaking hand. "Tell me what I can do to help you, please?"
Licking his lips, Tommy grins unnervingly. "I'm fine," he states, "Right as rain."
"You're lying to me," I reply, sadly.
"I am, little one. Lately, any time I've exerted myself, I have problems keeping blood down."
I frown. "Don't...don't do that, then. Feed from me. Let me take care of you." 

I hesitate slightly, moving closer to him and pressing my wounded face to his shoulder. He places his arms around me. "What the hell happened to us, little one?"
"Hell. Hell has happened to us." I settle into his arms with a slight grimace of pain. "I'm used to it. But you... you deserve better."
"No, little one. We deserve better. We deserve a peaceful home, parties with neighbors, a decent wedding."
I blink, taken aback. "...what."
Tommy continues, "All the parts of a real life. I always wanted that. My father wanted it for me, but I was too busy trying to break out into the family business to realize what I was leaving behind. I'll never have a wife, a regular job, and the one child I ever had I left for dead in the fucking desert."
My expression grows rife with pity, both for Tommy and for myself. "I wish I could give a real life to you. Or at least see to it that you could have all that." Staring past him, seemingly at nothing, I continue. "I stopped wanting anything like that before I was even embraced."
"You would have been a wonderful woman, little one. You could have grown up to live a life of worth." 
I shake my head. "You don't know that."
"I do. The mind you possess cannot be an accident of the Embrace or the curse of Malkav. Women of intelligence go on to do grand things."
I shake my head more vigorously, looking down at myself, disgusted. "Doesn't matter. It's too late for any of that. Too late for me to be anything but..."
Tommy, with his eyes closed, kisses the base of my neck. "You can't judge yourself by the life that could have been, little one. None of that is your fault. We can only make due with what we have. I just I had hoped that life would be simpler once you were back with me."
His words bring a small, pleased whimper from my lips. "It is my fault. If I were stronger, I would have been able to...to do more. To save them. To save myself." 
"Would you have been able to save yourself from you? If you were the one committing the atrocity? Or, more realistically, would you have been able to stop /me/ if you were mortal?"
"It doesn't matter. I should have done more. Died, if I had to. It'd be better than being how he made me."
"No, it wouldn't have been," Tommy states, plainly. "You've been dead, and you know it's something worse than this life. Infinitely worse."

I don't respond, simply keeping my head against his chest, feeling his arms encircle me. My mind attempts to creep to dangerously dark corners, but each time I look up, keeping my eyes on Tommy's until my thoughts clear. Tommy holds me for hours, silently. He breathes, out of habit, the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest comforting me. The pain and fear don't dissipate, but seem to dull. As I feel sleep begin to take hold, I whisper to him, my voice muffled against his shirt. "...you remind me of him." 
I don't give context to my words, but Tommy answers just the same, his tone benevolent even through his exhaustion. "Is that why you love me?"
"No," I reply, the one syllable word hanging in the air, unfinished, as we both succumb to sleep.

https://youtu.be/p8T0nzX0Tmw

I don't know how this is going to end. I don't know how this is going to change. I don't know how this is going to feel, but everything comes down to this.

I climb from the passenger seat of the Lincoln, the feeling of Tommy's cold lips on my forehead quickly replaced by the sting of frigid wind. Scanning the darkened grounds of the park and seeing no one, I make my way to the top of the hill. A single bench juts from cracked concrete, and I hop onto it, sitting on the back of it with my boots resting on the seat. From my vantage point, the harbor is a black, undulating mass, lapping at the sea wall with each gust. A peek at my phone tells me I have at least an hour before my company will show up, unless they're here already, unseen. Unconcerned, I wrap my arms around my knees, staring down at my bare skin as if waiting for goosebumps to appear. A glance at the gold inscribed knife handle sticking from the top of my boot sends a shockwave of pain through my already bruised chest. I reach down and graze it with my fingertips, concentrating for a moment and feeling the same sorrow and despair from Sailix's memory. I pull my hand away, flinching.

Picking up the sound of activity, I cock my head towards the east side of the park. The sound is human, moving away as if subconsciously repelled by the monster in their midst. Paranoid, sending a stream of thought towards the street, I make sure Tommy is safe and undisturbed in the Lincoln. Fear of leaving him without my protection overwhelms any apprehension I have to bringing him along with me. My gut churns nervously in anticipation for tomorrow night's meet. Having him near so many potential enemies. Having him near...I cut off that train of thought with a shudder, fearful that even thinking his name is an omen.

But here you are, guard dog. Recruiting for the devil.

The words echo in my thoughts, the voice guttural, tainted with evil and only vaguely feminine. I press my forehead against my knees, closing my eyes against any visions or apparitions that may come along with the voice.
"I have to do this. More people will die if I don't, than if I do."
The voice laughs at me, just like she has so many times before.

What if you die, little guard dog? Little wraith? Who will be first to claim your soul? He knows your name, remember?

"Tommy won't let that happen." 
But, how many times can I expect him to save me? How long can I expect him to keep his word? What makes Tommy any different from every other person who has promised to love me, just to abandon me once they see the true cost of their affections. Beneath my closed eyes, there's an empty bedroom rife with the smell of cinnamon and clove, a tear stained letter, a pile of ash.

And yet you're willing to sacrifice the few that are left.

Whimpering, I push my right hand from my chest with my left, sheathing my claws and trying to heed Tommy's command to not hurt myself anymore.
"If we all work together...I can make sure to keep all of them safe. This doesn't have to be a death sentence. I can fix this. I can protect them."

Like you protected Alex? Like Sailix? What about Marina...like you protected her?

Fresh grief tears at my insides, and I relent and open my eyes to my accuser. She stands before me, a corrupted doppelganger whose black, gaping reflection stares back at me in every mirror I look into. Her arm is held aloft, spots of rot staining her flesh. Her index finger and thumb point at me in a sideways 'L'. She cocks her thumb, the trigger, and I cringe back from the gunshot shattering the silence. I see Marina falling back from me on the bed, a dark hole punched between her eyes. Her face suddenly inanimate before a wave of Tommy's hand dissolves her corpse into something less than dust. My horror, even as he sets the revolver down and wraps me in the safety of his arms.

"Nooo...that wasn't my fault. That wasn't my fault! I told her not to, I tried to stop her."
The doppelganger's faceless maw radiates smugness and delight. I lean forward, reaching out with my claws to clutch at her. To hurt her and try to absolve my own conscious. My fingers slip through nothing, and nothing is what I see before I link my hands behind my neck and press my head against my knees once more. I don't raise it again until I hear the sound of an engine cut off, and a set of doors open and close. The wind brings familiar scents to my nose. I swallow needlessly, lifting my head and forcing the best attempt at a casual civility to my face as I feel them draw close. My eyes are pulled to the harbor and it's restless waters, before I glance towards my Sabbat allies.
"Oh, hey. You're here..."

https://youtu.be/UA1XlmvQkiI

Maybe I don't have a choice, and maybe that is all I have, and maybe this is a cry for help.

The smell of frying meat and vegetables makes me wrinkle my nose, but I continue to stir and turn the food in the wok. My hands shake as I hold the utensils, blinking rapidly to clear the film of red from my eyes. I hear the stomp of heavy boots coming down the stairs, and grit my teeth and Marina enters the kitchen. Her voice is rough with sleep as she inquires, "What did I miss?" 
I hear the snap of her unbuckling and removing her tactical vest. Keeping my gaze on the cooking food, I reply, "Oh hey. You're awake. I figured you'd be hungry, since you need to eat, so I'm making you something to eat." I cringe at the sound of my own voice, and its unnatural, disjointed tone.
As Marina continues to remove her boots and outerwear, her scent fills the room, reeking of sweat, dirt and river water. She moves close to me, and her hands come into my view, reaching for the spatula. "I can cook, Madelyn. Here, let me-"
I needlessly inhale, whimpering quietly as Marina reaches past me. My throat burns at the smell of her blood flowing so nearby. "I can...I can do it."
She pushes at me with her shoulders. "Really, it's not an issue. You don't have to cook for me."
I look up to her finally, attempting to fight my hunger. My fangs extend and I cover my mouth, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to help...I'm sorry." I drop the cooking utensils and move away from the ghoul.

Marina seems mildly stricken, "No, no," she apologizes. "It's not that, I'm just not really used to being waited on. You know? It's not really something that I encounter often." She follows me step for step, despite my angst, "I'm not used to someone serving me, instead of the other way around."
I hold my hands out, attempting to halt Marina's following. "Please stop...you smell...you smell like.." I press my hand harder against my mouth and nose.
She stops, then lifts her arm and sniffs underneath. "Good god, you're right." She pauses, staring at me with a curious expression. "If you don't mind, could I take a shower? I don't want to impose further, but I could use a bath, like, yesterday."
I nod my head, still covering my mouth. "You can do whatever you want "
"No, it's your house. Just because my regnant is your... you know, doesn't mean you can't have a pair when you're talking to me. I'm a ghoul, Madelyn, you're allowed to say 'no' to me."
I force my hand from my mouth, attempting to muster an iota of control as I respond, "It's fine. Really, Marina. I'm just..." I take another step back, desperate to escape the reek of her blood. "Don't worry about it. Go...shower." She gives me a wary glance, before heading upstairs.

The floor creaks under her every step, and I hear the bathroom door shut and the groan of the pipes as the water begins to run. With struggle, I return to the food. The hand not stirring creeps up to my mouth, and I bite into it, relishing the pain and the taste of my own blood. I finish the stir fry and turn the stove off, rocking back on my heels until the sound of Marina's voice coming down the stairs jolts me from my fugue. "Uh, Madelyn? Got any clothes I can borrow?"
I pull my hand from my mouth, swallowing harshly before answering. "Yeah, I'll...yeah."
Marina waits at the top of the stairs, clad in a damp towel, her strawberry blonde hair spread in wet hanks over her shoulders. Some of the wounds on her shoulders seem to have healed. I stop at the top of the stairs, unable to keep my eyes from her neck as she speaks. "Thanks, again." Nodding, I duck into my room, avoiding looking at the bed as I pull an armful of clothing from my closet and step back into the hallway, offering it to Marina. She chuckles. "Any for you? You need them almost as much as I do."
I glance down at the same clothes that I've been wearing for the past five nights. "No, I'm fine." I squeeze my wounded hand at my side, hoping the sting will distract me from the vein that pulses in her bare throat. "I should leave you alone..."
She accepts the clothing, but sets it aside, studying my face. "Madelyn, do you need to feed? If so, you need to tell me now."
"I need to.." I shrink away from Marina. "I don't want to."
T
he ghoul breathes heavily, then sighs out in a sort of confident declaration of intent. "Madelyn, I have enough blood to sustain you. Just take enough to sustain you, until I can grab you a willing participant. Luckily, you're not one of Tommy's people, so you'll at least be able to do it without making me want to die." 
She smiles and chuckles at her last statement, and the sound makes me flinch. "I'll hurt you. I can't not." My tone is conflicted, torn between hunger and distaste.
Marina falters slightly, "Of course you can. What is it that Littany said? It's an expression of intent. Just think about not hurting me, and it won't hurt."
I swallow a mouthful of air, looking to Marina, my eyes sad. "That's why I can't."
She places a hand on my shoulder, holding up the towel with her underarms, and asks, "Why not? Maybe I can help? I was there when Tommy taught the Caitiff how, maybe it'll help."
I stiffen under Marina's hand, but don't move away. Shaking my head, I reply, "I don't want to...not hurt you." I lower my face, avoiding the ghoul's eyes.
I feel her warm hand under my chin forcing my eyes to hers. Her expression looks hurt as she asks, "You want to hurt me?"
I clench my hands tightly at my sides, struggling. "Marina, please stop. I'll just...I'll figure something else out.." My hunger grows, despite the tears that well in my eyes.

Marina seems to be steeling herself, her muscles stiffening as she bites down hard on her own tongue. She opens her mouth, displaying the welling blood to me. I groan aloud, wanting to turn my gaze away and retreat. Her expression shows defiance and power, but there's a hunger of her own in her eyes. I envy her control, exhaling sharply and pushing her away with clawed hands. My lips pull up, exposing my teeth in a snarl. Marina's towel drops as she parries my claws to the side and forces her mouth against mine. The smell of her blood is too strong. My fangs grow and I bite into the ghoul's lips and mouth with a growl. She growls back in response, her wounded tongue pressing into my mouth. I clamp my jaws down, severing part of the organ and relishing the gout of blood that escapes down my throat. Marina's gasps in pain, her body pinned against mine as I dig my claws into her shoulders. I reach out to her with my thoughts, not speaking, but implanting a taste of the sickening madness into the ghoul's subconscious. I watch as her eyes grow wide and frightened, her stance becoming defensive. I tighten my grip, my lips turn up into a smile against hers as I continue drinking. Marina begins to pull away, a high pitched groan emitting from her chest. I remove my claws from her shoulders as she breaks free, shredding her lips in the process. Hissing angrily, hot blood running down my chin, I lunge as she runs into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I follow, slamming my open palm against the door hard enough to shake it in its frame.

A shudder runs through my body, and my guts churns, threatening to lurch up the blood I just consumed. I hit my palm against the wood again, half-heartedly. My mouth tastes sour and I fight away the shame and horror that spreads its seeds in my thoughts. The sound of thumping comes clearly from inside the bathroom. Squeezing my eyes shut briefly, I turn the knob and open the door. Marina cowers in the bathtub, wielding the curtain rod in a scene that's painfully familiar to me. Her green eyes show a deep terror, the terror that only comes with being surrounded by your own worst fears. "Please," she pleads with a wounded tongue and with lips that have only slightly healed. "Please, make them stop."
Any sense of hunger left runs out of me, replaced with pity. My own voice sounds pained as I pull a towel from the rack and reply, "I told you, Marina. I told you." I approach the ghoul slowly.
She brandishes the rod, her feet slipping under her as she tries to stand. "Madelyn, please. Tell him to make them stop."
My brow furrows. "I can't." I reach for the shower rod, pulling it from Marina's terrified, grasping hands. I set it on the floor and climb into the tub with her, holding the towel out. "I'll protect you, though."
Marina grabs onto the towel, and then clutched at my arms. "Tell him! Tell him to make them stop, Madelyn. He listens to you. Please."
Her words send a pang of agony through my chest. My words are weak and shuddering as I reply, "Shh, it's alright." I move to sit in the tub with the other woman, pulling her close to me and wrapping the towel around her. I pet her hair, keeping my tone soft and comforting. "I'm sorry, Marina. I'll protect you, OK?"

The woman shakes in my arms, her skin covered in goosebumps and bruises. I tuck the edges of the towel under her, as she stares up at me, the wounds on her face healing quickly. "Madelyn, when will I go back to normal? When is it going to stop?"
I meet her eyes, before forcing my own closed. "Soon." I sigh, fighting overwhelming exhaustion. "I promise."
Marina continues talking in a terrified tone. "I wish I'd never met him, I want to be who I was, Madelyn. Just make me normal, again. Just let me go back to the way it was." She continues to shake, silently.
I frown, eyes still closed, smoothing Marina's hair from her face. "Just..." I force air from my lungs. "Just sleep. It'll be safer for you." The ghoul trembles in my arms, but remains silent. Even with my eyes closed, her fearful expression and torn face haunt me. It's replaced with Sailix's anger and hurt as he pulls his wounded hand from mine. Tommy, clapping a hand over the claw marks in his features. Alex struggling fruitlessly under me as I clamp my teeth into his shoulder. I quickly forget Marina's anguish and drown in my own, my arms falling away from the ghoul as I regress into sleep, into an escape from the inescapable.

https://youtu.be/AKNo3J4daDk

Hard and silent but, softy breaking. No beloved to comfort me.

I don't realize that I'm already home until I trip on the front steps. My already scraped up shins bang against the porch. Unconcerned, I move to a sitting position and lean against the rail, wincing as the engine shaped burn on my back presses into the wood. After a few minutes, I head Gadzooks' small whine, and the sound of her pawing at the door. Everything else in the house is quiet. Everyone else. I squeeze my eyes shut, hands held limp at my sides.

"..Ms. DeWittier.."
"...she's a guard dog.."

Never have I ever felt such dread from my name on someone's lips. I move my arms around myself, holding tightly to try to control my shakes. He knows my name. He can call me to him...he can control me. I ignore Gadzooks' more persistent whimpers. No. No, he can't. I'm not dead, I'm not a ghost. My jaw clenches shut like my eyes. But he can call me to him. Like he did with Tommy. Like he did with Sailix. My minor wounds are nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

"God dammit Madelyn, come down from your high horse!"

I still smell Sailix's blood on my claws, but any anger I mustered against him is long gone. Replaced by hurt, by loneliness, by betrayal. My hands, clamped into fists at my sides, long to turn on me. To bring to the surface enough physical pain to distract me from the war in my head. I want Tommy to wake up. I need his guidance. His punishment.

"Thomas is ours."

The voice is so real that I leap from the porch, nearly barreling Gadzooks over as I rush into the house. I dart upstairs and into the bedroom. Tommy still lies in the same position I left him in when night fell. His chest slightly more healed, his expression blank. I silently curse the tears that escape, wondering how there can even be any left in me. Pressing my hands against my chest, I move to his side of the bed. "I...I love you Tommy." My tears spot his cheek as I bend forward and kiss his unresponsive lips. The smell of his blood makes my mouth water, and I quickly turn away, wrapping my arms around myself again. I want so badly for it to be someone else's arms around me, but there's no one. Nothing. Just like I deserve. I'm so tired.

I take off my filthy, torn up hoodie and toss it onto the bathroom floor. Gadzooks yips and jumps on me, desperate for my attention. I kneel to pick her up, but stop in mid motion. The dog's innocent eyes stare up at me with adoration, but it repels me instead of engaging me. She only loves me because she has to. Because my blood runs in her veins. Even that fact doesn't make me feel any less guilty as I shoo her gently from the bathroom, closing the door on her confused face. She whimpers by the door, and it presses against the frame slightly as she lays down in the hallway. Averting my eyes from the mirror as I pass, I crawl into the bathtub, curling into a ball at the bottom of the cold porcelain. Before sleep takes over, I slip one of my socks off, stuffing it between my jaws, hoping the gag is enough to muffle the screams from my inevitable nightmares.

https://youtu.be/XNot0KYfMJA

This was never my world you took the angel away. I'd kill myself to make everybody pay.

I sit up in the bed, arms wrapped around my knees as I stare down at Tommy's inert form. He still hasn't woken up, and it's only the brief response I had from his thoughts that keeps me from losing my mind completely and hunting down Bernito. Or Tony. Or whoever it is that did this to him. I lift his limp hand from the bed, resting my cheek against his cold skin. He doesn't respond, and I'm disappointed even though I didn't expect him to. I look down to the wound on his chest and flinch. It looks better since I've cleaned it and since he's had time to heal, but the skin is still raw and painful looking. From her spot at the foot of the bed, Gadzooks whimpers in her sleep, her paws twitching slightly. My eyelids feel heavy, and glancing at the clock, I realize it's already noon. "I should probably try to sleep." 

There's no reply from the torpid vampire, or the sleeping dog, unsurprisingly. I lay down next to Tommy, placing my head in the crook of his shoulder and his arm around my back. His arm falls back onto the mattress as soon as I let go of his hand. I stare up into his blank face, frowning. "I'll fix this for you, Tommy. OK? I'll fix this for us." Forcing a breath through my lungs, I fight down the threatening tears and press my face against his shoulder. "No matter what, I'll make sure that you survive this. I'll do what I have to..." Gadzooks growls in her sleep as my voice changes, becoming almost bestial. "Kill who I have to." There's still no change in Tommy's expression. "Sailix and I will start tomorrow. The Sabbat...we'll talk to Zaahir and Shackles..." I curl tighter around his body. "We'll talk to...I'll talk to Odessa and Torsten..." The fight with tears is lost as I think about leading my friends into a war. Losing more people I care about. For Tommy. For Tommy. My tears still trail down my cheeks as I fall asleep clinging to Tommy's body.

The hooded, bundled figure trudges closer. The sewer stink surrounding his clothing is overwhelming, but I stand my ground as Vogtman crosses the yard. "You can't have him." I state, my voice sounding more brave than I feel. From behind me, safe on the porch, Gadzooks barks at the creature.
He chuckles, the sound a stark contrast to his putrid appearance. His voice comes out clearly, articulate with an Irish lilt. "He's already ours, but what about you? What about you, little spirit?" 
I shrink back, involuntarily. Of course I know that Bernito knows what I am. Or was. I didn't consider the rest of the circle knowing as well. The Vogtman's tongue creeps out, tasting the air, tasting my scent in the air. I hear quiet growling at my side and before I can stop her, Gadzooks charges at him. A puny, black projectile heading straight to the arms of a beast. "No! Gadzooks, come back! Come back!" My shouting turns to a shriek as Vogtman's hands dart out and snatch the little dog off the ground. Gadzooks struggles fiercely and fruitlessly, yipping in pain as she's squeezed between his palms. Her terrified bay and my own scream meld together as Vogtman clamps his jaws and teeth around Gadzooks' neck, hers being cut short when he rips her throat out in a spout of blood. I press my clenched fists against my lips, horrified as he tosses her spent corpse into the grass. Before I can scream again, I'm choking on the smell of his foulness and the feeling of his tongue wrapped around my neck and mouth. Clawing at the layers of his clothing, I can't even scream as I feel my flesh under his clutching tongue rotting away the skin to the muscle beneath. I fall against the stairs, pinned by his bulk and unable to fight as muscle gives way to bone, the last sound being the disintegration and separation of my spine as

I wake with a jolt, quickly jamming the side of my hand into my mouth to stifled a scream. Gasping needlessly, I roll away from Tommy before I can disturb him. Gadzooks climbs over my lap, licking my face and struggling to give me some sort of comfort. Confident that I've got myself at least slightly in control, I pull my shaking hand from my mouth and gently set her on the floor. A glance at the clock tells me I only managed an hour of thoroughly unwell sleep. Exhausted, frightened and forlorn, I turn to Tommy. His body is still, unresponsive, inattentive and utterly comatose. I move to him, taking both of his hands as my tears splash onto his bare skin. "Tommy, please. Please wake up! Please, you promised! I need you...please I can't do this without you Tommy!" There's no reply at all, and the only assuagement I receive are his cold and still hands in my own. I stare at him for awhile, the tears eventually tapering off. Settling his hands back down, I slide off the bed and order Gadzooks to stay, petting her head before I exit the room.

My feet drag as I cross the hallway, peering into the spare bedroom where Marina is still sprawled across an old mattress. She snores lightly, looking worse for wear but deep asleep, regardless. I turn away from the smell of her blood and warmth and make myself move down the stairs. Reaching the kitchen, I listen at the basement door. It's silent, and I assume that Sailix is also fast asleep. Lifting myself onto the counter, I rest my head against the cabinets, keeping my eyes forced open as the long daytime hours slip away to night.

https://youtu.be/jDO2TrYdM70

I know that you've been damaged, your soul has suffered such abuse. But I am not your savior.

I keep up the facade. Even as I watch the people I love settle into what is little more than a death pact. I keep up the facade as I lay Tommy in our bed. His pained and tired expression terrifies me more than the raw, charred flesh across his chest. I kiss him and comfort him and apologize to him. I keep up the facade as he sleeps, taking only the slightest relief at the temporary peace that stays across his features. My eyes remain open, despite the sun that rises on the other side of windowless walls. I know the horrors of the night will only be repeated tenfold in my nightmares. When I slide off the bed, I hear a small yawn and the quiet thump of a wagging tail. Gadzooks stretches on the bed, preparing to follow me. "No, stay. Stay with Tommy." Her head cocks to the side, but she sits back down, heeding my command. "Good girl."

I cross the bedroom, my bare feet making no noise on the scant carpeting. Even in the dark, I find the door with ease, opening it and shuddering at the feel of cold tile. My hand feels along the wall until I find a light switch. The bathroom floods with light, and the first thing I see is my own corrupt, gaping reflection. A sickened moan escapes from my lips as I clutch at the edge of the sink, unable or unwilling to take my eyes off of the mirror. I pry a hand from the porcelain, pressing my palm against the silvered face of glass. It doesn't change. I move my hand to my face, feeling my features, feeling the furrowed brow and curve of a frown.

That's how they all see you. The beast matches you perfectly.

Dropping to the floor, I'm spared myself of my own monstrous reflection. My claws extend, tearing at the flesh of my chest. I need to pain to distract me. To divert my attention from my failures. Tommy in pain. In agony, as the strangers faces look on. A familiar expression from an unfamiliar face. Sailix's pain and struggle. I make sure the link between our minds is closed tight, knowing the Assamite is likely as sleepless as I am. He mourns his children, anguishes over their fate.

And you willingly offered yours up as a sacrifice. As an experiment.

I yearn for consolation from Pyotr or MacAllister. I could never deserve such caring father figures, but they bring me solace, regardless. I want my dad.

You are no ones daughter. Dead twice over, no one will claim you as kin.

My claws scrabble against bone, and I force my bloody hand into my lap. More blood wells from my clenched fist as I fight the urge to dig deeper, but I refuse to disturb Alex. All that I have left of him. A soft keening echoes against the tile. I want him. I want his arms around me. I want his warmth and his assurance that I am worth something.

Alex would be ashamed of you. Disgusted, even.

I'm ashamed of me. Because I know. Because I will lead all of my friends into a war. Into death. Because my choice is everyone, or Tommy. And I can't save everyone. I won't. Tommy chooses him over me, and I choose Tommy over everyone.

You will fail. Tommy will die in your arms and you won't even have time to mourn before the rest of them die, too.

"No."

I can't even cry anymore. There's not enough energy left in me. I'm so tired. So tired. I can't. I should be dead. I should be bones in a coffin. I should be ash in the dirt. I should be at peace. I should be so many things, but instead I am this monster. This monster that fights for what she loves. This monster that fights what she should be. What she is.

I force myself to my feet, dripping blood over the clean tile. I leave a red stain as I spin the knob of the door. Another as I switch the light off. I hear Gadzook's soft snore, and the continued silence from Tommy's undisturbed sleep. I climb back into the bed, laying stiff and disquieted. I want to curl against Tommy, but I'm afraid of disturbing him. I want to keep my distance, but I'm afraid of leaving him without my protection. The wound on my chest gapes open, but the resulting pain is unsatisfying. I'm so tired, but there is no graceful drift to slumber. The morning forces itself further, as a unrelenting, inescapable hand that pushes me under the ocean of nightmares that awaits.

https://youtu.be/FmIEbhW7VNE

I've been looking for a way to bring you back to life. And if I could find a way, then I would bring you back tonight.

I limp out to the back porch, Gadzooks following at my heels. Settling on the steps, I take a moment to brood and heal my injuries while Tommy prepares the rest of my punishment. Absently stroking Gadzooks' fur as she tries to lick the dried blood from my hand, I stare out into the woods. The images from my nightmares still haunt me, mixing with the residual fear that somehow Bernito will find us. That he'll find Tommy and take him from me. Horrific, if he takes him forcefully, more horrific still if Tommy goes willingly. I draw my knees up, hiding my face against them. My thoughts are full of masks of flesh and Ferris wheels. I try to clear my head enough to hear Tommy when he inevitably summons me back into the house. Gadzooks barks once at my side, and I shush her. She barks again, a curious sound, rather than alarmed. I move my arm enough to glance down at her. She stares intently down into the yard, and lifting my head, I follow her line of sight. A male figure comes from the woods, his hair and eyes dark, his skin tan. My heart seems to both leap and drop, simultaneously. I don't rise from the step, simply settling on leaning forward, taking in the sight, regardless of its actuality.

"Alex." I state, simply.
The apparition stops near the porch, staring up at me. His expression seems conflicted, torn between pleasure and anger and settling on the latter. His anger shames me, but I don't dare drop my eyes, wanting to absorb every moment I can. His face is the same, his clothes are the same, and his voice is the same as he chastises me. "You know...this is exactly the opposite of what I want for you."
I frown, pulling my knees tighter to my chest and wincing at the tenderness there. "That's not fair to say, Alex. I'm doing the best I can considering..." My eyes well with tears.
His expression falters, some of the anger seeming to dissipate. "Madelyn. This isn't your best. This is nowhere near your best. I've seen your best firsthand, and..."
I cut him off, my own voice loud and petulant. "No! Don't say that! That isn't fair!" Gadzooks yips and runs behind me to cower under the porch bench. "You're gone. You...you died and you left me alone. If Tommy hadn't been there, I would be dead too. And you know damned right that I wouldn't end up the same place as you." Alex just stares at me, his expression rife with skepticism. "Tommy loves me. Not in the same way you do..." I drop my gaze for a moment, pausing. "The way you did. But, in his own way. He takes care of me."

Alex steps forward a little, then stops with a frown, moving back to his original spot. My hand creeps up to my chest, pressing over my sternum as if to alleviate the agony there. He watches this, his voice pained as he responds. "Stockholm syndrome, Madelyn. I've told you so many times. He doesn't care, he just uses you as an outlet for his own sadistic...bullshit! If he loves you, it's only because of your blood." He appears regretful of his words when a hurt whimper escapes my lips. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to...I don't want to hurt you."
I wipe at my face. "S'fine. I guess out of anyone, you have the most right to hate Tommy. I.." I trail off, staring at Alex, knowing he's not really there and aching to touch him, regardless.
His stance seems to mirror my own yearning. "I wish I could hold you," he whispers. His eyes meet mine, sad and sorrowful. "I miss you so much." I rise to my feet, wiping splinters from the back of the ridiculous schoolgirl uniform Tommy put on me. Alex smirks at little when I stand. "You look really cute tonight."
I watch Gadzooks as she creeps from beneath the bench, hopping down the wooden stairs and approaching Alex cautiously. "I love you, you know." 
"I know," he responds, bending down to pet the dog. She wags slightly, sniffing his sneakers and looking to me for approval. Alex scratches behind her ears and straightens up. "It'd be better if you got a cat." 

The statement is so perfectly Alex, that I find myself giggling, covering my face as I laugh through my tears. I hear Gadzooks climb back up the stairs and when I drop my hands again, Alex is gone. My chest throbs dully, and I know that he wasn't really there. That he never will be, again. Instead of crushing sadness, I feel angry. Furious, even. The people that did this, that took him from me...they still live. The bastards that hurt me so badly, both physically and emotionally, got away unscathed. I pace in short circles, periodically glancing towards the house and wracking my brain for a way to find them. As if summoned by my thoughts, my phone goes off. I look at the sender, reading the message with a furrowed brow. OK. This could be progress. I hear Tommy's voice beckoning from inside the house. Risking his ire, I take a moment to type out a response. As I hit send, he swings the door open, his expression thunderous. Plucking my phone from my hand, he commands, "Now," punctuating his command with a hard swat to my behind. Pausing only long enough to allow Gadzooks to run in before me, earning another swat in the process, I enter the house and prepare for my punishment.

https://youtu.be/xJtBYAKBByk