Echoes and specters and ghosts of none the wiser. Apparitions each, and bad decisions brush on by.

The bass of the music vibrates the floor under my feet. Eyes closed, I can still pinpoint the position of every breathing body in the club. The liquor laced vitae runs through my system, and I manage to lose myself in the ridiculously upbeat tempo of some new pop sensation. I continue to sway my hips in time with the beat, even as I sense the approaching Kine. He's thinking between my revealing attire and the look of glazed contentment on my face, it's a slam dunk. I feel him reach for me, and I catch him off guard when I spin around to face him. His look of surprise changes to pleasure as I caress my hands across his face, stopping them on either side of his jaw. The snap of his neck is quick, silent and unnoticed in the din of the club. Just as unnoticed as when I waltz his body over to one of the couches in a shadowy corner. I drop him onto the worn leather without a backwards glance. I'm about to rejoin the throng on the dance floor when I catch a glance of my reflection in one of the mirrors angled towards the dancers. Despite the booze, the distractions...it shows on my face. "No. I'm not dealing with this, now." I'm out one of the back doors in the slightest flicker of movement.

Clenching my fists, I stare down into the alley. Not seeing, but fighting down the thoughts that crawl into my brain and burn like bile. A hesitant voice pipes up from a propped open door. "Miss? Are you ok?" 
I turn my face away, knowing the inquisitor will approach. Human nature. That fucking empathy. "I'm not ok." I meant for my words to come out harsh and snarky. The dismay I hear in my own inflection sends me into a frenzy. In flashes and bursts of color, I see myself smashing a middle aged man's face into the brick wall repeatedly. I hear the grating sound when his teeth crush against the mortar. The light spattering of blood from each impact. I watch it, seemingly detached from my own consciousness. The heavy thunk of his skull hitting the bricks. Like the sound of a ripe pumpkin tossed from a high window. By the time I drop the mostly pulverized body onto the concrete, I'm back in my own head.

My hands are shaking.

I wipe at my mouth with the trembling appendage, before staring at the blood splattered and smeared across my knuckles. Transfixed, I almost trip over the drained body of my victim. Somehow I stumble back to my car, my mind elsewhere as I drop into the seat, slamming the old Jetta's door. I glance at the chainsaw resting chummily in the passenger seat. For once, not bemoaning the lack of use I've gotten out of it. Instead, dwelling on the unlikely father figure who gave it to me. Before I can catch myself, my fingers are clenched tight around the steering wheel. At least they can't shake this way. Without warning, I feel the phantom comfort of the Brujah's hand on my shoulder. A hand strong enough to pop my head off without effort. Reassuring. Forgiving, even after my transgressions. Pyotr's bemused expression whenever he directed his attention to the mostly insane, troublesome, murderous teenager he treated like a daughter. Begrudgingly accepting the fact that I cared about the mountainous Russian, despite myself. Now. Another one gone. Yet another loss. Another loss.

My mournful sob reverberates into the night. The silence broken even as the sob is choked off, mid note. I pry a hand off the steering wheel and start the car. The drive home unhindered by the film of red periodically blurring my vision. I reach the empty but familiar house in the woods. I'm out of the car and up on the porch in a flash of motion quick enough to send the few crows on the railing scattering in a flurry of feathers. I block out the recollection the sight of the birds threaten to bring to the forefront of my already distressed thoughts. Curling onto the couch, I try to get a handle of my emotions. Emotions. The word is bitter with distaste. I can't shake it. The empty house holds no assuagement to the swirling crush of dysphoria. For the umpteenth time in this dragging month I pull my cell phone from my boot, tentatively browsing the names. Once again pondering the idea of reaching out to someone.

Simon. Too damn close to... Marcus. Lucy. Testament. Too busy with their new positions. Magnus. Pretty sure he actually hates me. Munin. The fearless viking doesn't need to be bothered with my trivial nonsense. Tommy. My expression goes hard. I can't pinpoint my feelings toward the priest. A friend...a murderer. The room seems to sharpen back into focus. My thumb caresses the call button on my phone as I simultaneously graze my other hand lovingly along the K Bar nestled snugly in my boot. Maybe I should have a talk with my Giovanni friend. I smile a little. Is this wise, Maddie? "Is anything I do wise?" Just a chat. Not a confrontation. Not a showdown. My inquisitiveness once again outweighs my self preservation and I impulsively place the call to Father Maletoni.

Each ring sets my teeth on edge. Finally I'm greeted by the priest's deep voice. "Father Maletoni."
I pause, keeping my tone tranquil. "...it's Madelyn." 
Momentary silence. Then, "Hello, Madelyn. I trust this isn't about more training?" 
Calm, Mad. Keep calm. "No. Do you have time to chat? Or is there a pressing assassination you're currently busy with?" I fail to keep the bitterness out of my voice. 
Another pause, then a sigh."Perchance we should talk face to face. You deserve as much." 
My fingers still caressing the hilt of my knife, I reply. "Good. When and where?" 
"I'm not in my church, I'm out of town. I will meet you at midnight in Elysium. Is this acceptable?" 
"Wonderful." I reply in a flat tone."And for the sake of my sanity..." Sanity? Ha! "..do -not- bring Litanny with you." I say, with the barest hint of ill humor. The line goes dead. I flip my phone closed, tossing it onto the table in front of me. Removing my other hand from it's comforting position on my Ka Bar, I rest my head on my clenched fists. My mind flickers through conflicted thoughts and memories of my Giovanni friend and his murder of the seemingly indestructible Brujah. I rise, and prepare to make my way to the club. I glance at the twin crossbow pistols Mongrel gave to me, but dismiss the idea of bringing them. As if I could even entertain the notion of successfully seeking revenge.

The drive to Elysium passes almost unnoticed by me. Getting out of the car, I pointedly avoid looking towards my beloved chainsaw. Let's not start things too confrontational. I walk through the entrance at 11:45. I spy Tommy sitting at the bar, the empty socket of his right eye covered by a innocuous mask. His squadron of Mafiosos flocked close by the priest. Should of known he'd be here early. A murderer with impeccable etiquette. I sigh and approach him silently, taking the stool to his left. Knowing anyone with even slight observation skills could see through my blank facade that barely camouflages the whirlwind of turmoil I'm sure shows through my eyes, I fold my hands on the bar top and stare ahead. Movement, as Tommy pours a draft of whatever he's drinking into a second glass, passing it to me in silence. Reaching for the drink, my hand trembles. I growl quietly at myself, hoping the priest doesn't notice. Wrapping my hand around the glass firmly, I pinch the bridge of my nose with my other hand. Calm. Calm, Maddie. "I'm sorry."Tommy's voice reaches me through my own thoughts. I feel the gaze of his remaining eye centering on me. "There's no excuse you'll accept, but I did what I needed to do." He continues, taking a sip from his glass. In my desperation to pull from my own mixture of emotions I send a stream of awareness into Tommy's mind. Like dipping a toe into a pool to test the water. There's a hefty amount of satisfaction, floundering under guilt and a familiar emotion. Loneliness. I pull back into my own thoughts with a start. That's the last thing I wanted to feel. The anger and need for vengeance wavers and I curse my own empathy. Tommy turns his chair to face me, and in the corner of my eye I see him dismiss his lackeys with a wave of his hand. I let out a shaky sigh and down the drink in front of me in a single gulp. Liquid courage. I twist my chair to return Tommy's gaze, and expectant look on my face.

"Do you care why he's dead?"
I raise my eyebrow at the priest. "...yes." I respond, almost begrudgingly. I wish I didn't care.
"You remember Hanzel's ghoul, Gretel?"
A ghost of a smile touches my lips. "Who could forget?"
"Do you know what became of her?"
"I know she's dead. I'm rarely graced with the information such as why or how."
Tommy smiles, "I was made aware by the former regent that it was he that killed her." His smile is forced, not reaching the remaining eye.
"I'm sure Pyotr killed a lot of people." I reply, indifferent.
"Indeed, he did. I would have little issue if Gretel was not mine to marry."

I cross my arms, leaning back to level a bemused expression at the priest. "I happen to know Pyotr had a tendency to take a lot of things that didn't belong to him." I say bitterly, fighting to keep my head clear.
"I suppose you would. I had no love for the woman, but she was a gift from friends." He pauses to breathe deeply."I do not care for those who break my things."
I find myself feeling almost indignant. "So. You killed him because he...broke your toy?" I fail to keep the hint of a growl out of my voice.
Tommy shakes his head hard enough for his cross to swing about his neck."He was an evil and brutish man. I would not let him be a danger to those around him for any longer. I just needed to wait for Franco's order." His voice raises in volume. "I wish I could have been there.

His one eye stares me down."Have you ever taken the time to look at the face of your victims?"
This change in topic rattles me. I feel my composure slip, the strain and hysteria that always bubbles beneath the surface showing through. "Yes. I have. Everyone, every time. And unlike most, the vision doesn't end after their death." Haunted by my own monstrosity. "This is irrelevant. I was hand fucking crafted into the monster I am." I say through gritted teeth. "Pyotr wasn't any more of a monster than most of the Kindred in Baltimore. Like myself, for example." I fight the urge to curl into my defensive position.
"We are only as our makers forged us. That, I will not dispute with you." He continues. "But he was not a monster, he was a force of nature. He was much like Serendipity. Unpredictable. Brutish. Destructive."
I clench my fists with a growl, no longer camouflaging the snarl in my voice. "And who picked you to be judge, jury and executioner? You seem to be headed down your own destructive path, Tommy."
He chuckles, looking down at his rings."I've noticed that, myself." Abruptly, his face appears calm and serene."Where is your chainsaw? Will the new Regent let you keep it?"
A flicker of pity crosses my face. Looks like I'm not the only one spiraling into self destruction. I wipe my face clear of emotion. My response is dripping with sarcasm. "It's around. And I can't imagine why he wouldn't."
Another chuckle from the Giovanni."I don't think he could take it if he tried."
"Don't patronize me." I fail to keep a small smile from my face.
"I wouldn't dare."A returned smile."You know, I never washed away your painting in my temple."
I snicker to myself, remembering the obscene scrawlings I painted in blood during one of my Potence lessons. "Good. It's a one of a kind." Even better than the ones I left in Tybalt's basement not too long ago. My face turns serious. "Not like that will matter if your church is blown up. You know this will turn into a war, don't you?" My thoughts hover around the previous night's unsettling phone call with Curtis, Pyotr's ghoul and son.
"It will not. The Giovanni have already considered a war, but have found it would be less profitable than allowing the Camarilla to exist here." Tommy responds, matter-of-factly. "Also, the Sabbat are poor."
I raise my eyebrow and quickly down another drink. "You Giovanni don't overestimate yourselves at all..."
"You see the Giovanni as the small group here. And although we are all well loved by our people, we are but a small arm. We've already secured a large force to invade if we require it. Pyotr knew this, but chose not to heed it. My people want to leave well enough alone. We want to sit by and do our work without the Camarilla forcing our hand." He shakes his head, pouring another drink for the both of us. "But you, Madelyn, are a friend of ours. Myself, specifically."
I empty the glass, ever the over indulger. "A friend." Rubbing my face vigorously, I respond. "He was like a father to me." I hate the pain in my voice. Tommy reaches for my shoulder. I don't pull away from his touch, but flinch a bit, conflicted by the need for vengeance versus the need for solace. "I came here because I kind of wanted to kill you." I admit.
"I understand that need." He says honestly, squeezing my shoulder comfortingly.
I unsuccessfully try to keep the look of content from my face. The need for assuagment turns my expression to shame. Eyes downcast, I mumble to myself. "...fuck..."
Tommy takes his hand from me."I'm sorry, you looked like you needed it."
I curse the void the lack of contact brings. Still mumbling. "....so much easier when I didn't give a shit about anything." Then, in a regular albeit hesitant tone. "It's...ok." I sigh, shaking my head almost imperceptibly. "I should never drink alcohol." I counter my own words by pushing my empty glass towards Tommy, gesturing for him to fill it. I look away while he replenished to booze and blood mixture. What has happened to me? When did I become such a... I cut my thoughts off, refusing to admit to myself that I'm not as far from humanity as expected. "Well, I'm not going to try to kill you." The words almost taste bitter in my mouth.
Tommy smiles again."I'm sorry for your loss, Madelyn."
I lean against the bar, propping my elbow on the counter, my chin in my hand. "Loss is nothing new to me." I glance at the priest, expecting him to take his leave. "Thanks, I suppose, for taking time to talk to me. I imagine you have things to attend to. Money to count. Corpses to violate..." I snort laughter.
He chuckles."I'm not sure I'm that I've any dead to violate. I'm trying to take it easy on the killings."
Yeah. That. Lucky you. "Heh. Yeah, I tried that for a bit. Unfortunately that left me without a reprieve from my..." I squeeze my eyes shut, briefly. "...myself."
"I'm sorry, I don't understand."The concern in Tommy's eye seems sincere.
I tap my head with my free hand. "Not many other ways to escape from in here."

His hand returns to it's ashamedly comforting spot on my shoulder. "I fear a bar may have been inappropriate for this discussion."
Despite the slight spinning in my brain, I wave a hand dismissively. "It lowered the temptation to bring my chainsaw." I smirk. "...although it is in my car."
A light laugh, and Tommy takes my hand in his. "You're terrifying, you know that. Correct?" His eye betrays no fear and seems to peer deeply
I cast my eyes down, staring at his hand on my own forlornly. "Yeah. I know." For once, there doesn't seem to be pride in my voice.
He squeezes my hand tightly in his cold, pale fingers. "Do you want to be terrifying?"
I keep my eyes down. "Sometimes I'm not so sure."
In my peripheral vision, I see Tommy look up, presumably at his collection of wraiths circling the ceiling. "It's overrated." His hand moves to the back of my neck, stroking gently. "I'm sorry for making you lonely."

Oh, god. I've missed this contact so badly. Before I can help myself, a contented sigh escapes my lips. "You're not really to blame."
Tommy mutters something under his breath, forcing his wraiths out of the bar. "I may not be fully to blame, but I took your adopted father from you. I need to make that up to you."

I look at him quizzically. "You..." my brow furrows "No you don't. I can take care of myself." I fear my facial expression gives this away as a blatant lie. My facade has officially slipped. Why the fuck did I have to drink so much?

"I can't hope to bring him back, but there has to be something I can do to kill the pain." the priest insists.
"I've tried a few things to kill the pain. I've so far been unsuccessful. Maybe this is just how I'll have to atone for being such a monster. Pain. Loss. Loneliness." My thoughts are centered on the cool comfort of Tommy's hand on my skin. Nope. No way.

I abruptly jump up from the bar stool. Stumbling a bit, I sputter out: "Y'know I should probably...go or..." I rub my face again.
"Do you have someone to drive you? Last thing we need is a breach of the masquerade. I'd have to hunt you down." He stands and places his hand on my lower back in attempt to stabilize me.
I scoff. "I'm the Scourge, I'd have to hunt myself down..." Trying to keep my head clear, I respond. "And I have my car."

"That won't work, if a cop finds someone appearing as young as you with alcohol under their breath? I'll have my men drive you." He scrutinizes me. "And myself. I'll have to make sure you get home alright."
Cops. PFFT. "Well then I'd kill them." I say, baring my teeth in a smile. I lean against the priest's muscular chest. "And while I may be able to cast aside any misgivings about you...I'll be damned if I'd trust your men knowing where my haven is."

He seems to come to a conclusion. "I have a better idea." Hands about my waist, he bravely pulls me out of the club.
I huff indignantly, but offer no resistance. "I'm kind of impressed. You're one out of very few people who have ever risked man handling me. And even fewer who have risked handling me at all."
"I've seen what you can do to someones body. If you wanted to, you would have broken me already." He smiles down at me. "I taught you some of that, remember?"
"Good point." A realization crosses my distracted mind. "Um." I halt our progress." I should probably not leave my chainsaw in my car. On the passenger seat. In plain view." I make a face.
"We'll have Marina drive your car."A tall and fit woman in combat gear approaches, extending her hand to me."Your keys, Lady Scourge?" she asks with a light tone.

Oh, hello. Why does Tommy have such tasty ghouls? "Yum. I mean...um..." I sheepishly hand my keys to the woman. "Here."

Marina smiles and takes the keys, briefly tracing her fingers my wrist. Then, with a flourish, walks away. Fuck. I hope I'm not drooling.

Tommy whispers down to me. "I wouldn't suggest trying to eat that one. She'll never let you stop."

HA. "They usually don't have a choice as to if I stop..." Marina's ears prick up at my words and she looks over her shoulder, her face seems hungry, but with frightened eyes. I'm distracted for a moment, looking at the ghoul with more than my average look of ravenous hunger. Almost as if I hunger for something more than a kill.

Tommy's voice breaks me out of my lull."Ready to go, Madelyn?" He says through the open car door. I climb into the back of the dark vehicle. 
My entrance is stumbling and graceless, thanks to the influence of the liquor. I compose myself, smoothing my skirt back down my legs before angling my body to face the one eyed priest. "That must hinder your depth perception a bit." I say, referring to the eye patch. 
"Thankfully, I have wraiths that can see for me. Even greater is my thanks that some things can be seen without two eyes." There's a strange, but recognizable inflection in his tone. His eye rests its gaze on my neck. My skin seems to tingle under his steady stare. I incline my head to the side slightly, my hair falling behind my shoulder. Smiling innocently, knowing the sparkle of mischief is visible in my face, I reply"I bet." 
He moves towards me, and his stare is replaced by the feel of his fangs pressed gently against my flesh. Oh. This is...a change of pace. I feel his cold breath against my neck as he breathes in my scent. Oh. I grow still, my own breath seeming to catch in my throat. My hand moves hesitant towards him, coming to rest against Tommy's chest. My other hand stays to the hem of my skirt. Idly, almost shyly toying with the fabric. The pressure of his fangs are replaced by cool lips that kiss my neck gently. He holds my head with one hand, the other he places against mine on his chest, slowly digging his nails into the back of my hand. He speaks, breath tickling my skin. "We're almost there." I non-chalantly hike my skirt up a few inches before wrapping my hand around the back of his neck. Twisting my fingers in the priest's dark hair, I pull his face away from my throat, bring it close to my own. Widening my eyes and smirking a bit, I speak quietly. "Are we?" Both of his hands grasp my waist as his mouth makes it's way to mine. As if on some sort of undesirable cue, the car squeals to a stop.
The driver's lighthearted voice chimes from the front seat "We're here, sir. Will you require my assistance, further?" Tommy shakes his head, staring intently at me, his eye filled with a need and hunger. 
Strangely enough, feeling a similar need throughout my own body, I run my tongue slowly and purposefully over my bottom lip. "Where is here, Father Maletoni?" I ask, quietly. 
"Luxury, my Lady Malkavian.

Tommy keeps eye contact with me as he steps out of the car. Once outside, I accept his offered hand and climb from the seat. I return his gaze, pointedly not looking at my surroundings."Seems a bit more accommodating than my empty shack in the woods." 
The Giovanni looks shocked. "You live, where?" 
I follow his lead to the door, rubbing my thumb across his palm and honestly reply: "Shack is a bit modest, I suppose." 
He frowns at the statement as he leads me to the elevator. "I enjoy modestly in life, but in undeath...we deserve the simple comforts of luxury." 
Easy for a Giovanni to say. My thoughts are distracted by the feel of his nail dragging against my flesh. I shiver almost imperceptibly. We enter the elevator and I lean casually against the wall. "It's what I have.." I try not to sound ungrateful. "...besides. Luxury can be found in other ways." I let the corners of my lips curl into a smile. 
Tommy leans his arm against the wall behind me. Angling towards my body, he inhales deeply, seeming to analyze my scent. "For instance?" 
Biting my lip and peering up at the priest through the fringe of my bangs, I find my craving for contact maddening. I need... I curl my hand into his waistband, pulling his body flush against mine. "Creature...comforts." 
He presses a key on the wall without taking his gaze off of me. "I suggest a compromise." His hands grip at my hips, squeezing tightly. 
"Compromise?" I fail to keep the pleased whimper from my voice. 
He breaks eye contact, bringing his cold lips to my ear. "Physical comfort, accentuated with the luxuries only a heavy wallet could procure." I feel his fangs grazing the ridge of my ear. 
Tilting my head back as I snake my left hand over his chest, I follow along his throat before settling my fingers along the priest's collarbone, digging my nails in ever so slightly. "Perhaps one of the most generous compromises I've ever been offered, Father Maletoni." My right hand tightens on his waistband.

As Tommy's lips close in on my own, a bell rings and the elevator opens, revealing a penthouse style lounge, over looking the Camden Yards stadium. "Welcome to my current haven, Lady Madelyn."
Well, this really does make my house look like a shack. I glance wide-eyed around the lavish room. Wiping the impressed look off my face, I smirk as I return my gaze to Tommy. "How quaint." He moves quickly, grabbing a handful of my hair and exposing my neck with a brisk pull. His lips meet my throat and his hand slips down my spine to rest at the small of my back. A gasp escapes my lips and my fingers tighten on his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. I arch my back under his hand, pressing my hips against his. At the drawing of his blood, he slides his hand down my thigh. His fingers pull my skirt up my legs and higher as a deep growl issues from his chest. Mmm, there it is. There's his beast. I smile, trailing my hand along his inner waistband, gently exploring the cool skin before settling on his belt. Unnaturally quick, I unbuckle it and whip the belt through it's loops, discarding it on the floor at his feet. Making sure his eyes are still on me, I bring my other hand between us, to my lips. The tips of my nails are lightly painted in his blood. Keeping eye contact, I luxuriously lick the crimson fluid from each fingertip. He watches the blood meet my lips and with a growl, he lunges forward, latching his mouth to mine. His hand presses against the back of my head, preventing escape from the kiss. Relishing the feel of Tommy's cold lips against my own, I exhale a quiet moan into his open mouth. Nipping at his tongue, I pluck open the button on his pants, teasing my finger along the teeth of the zipper. Tommy's slides his suit jacket down his muscular arms, dropping it on the floor to join his belt. His hand returns to my chin as he grazes his front teeth over my bottom lip. I reach up to the collar of his shirt, gently loosening his tie before jerking the sides of his shirt open hard enough to send the buttons flying every which way. I run my nails down the smooth skin of his chest, stopping to hook my thumbs under his waistband, gently tugging the pants downward.

A smirk crosses the priest's face. "No no, dear Madelyn. I'll not be caught less dressed than you." His fingers once again hike my skirt to my waist, then pull my ridiculously chaste panties down to my knees. Tommy leans downward, keeping his eye on me as he pulls the lace fully down my legs to the floor. I reach down and grab his tie, wrapping the fabric around my fist and bringing him to his feet. I graze my fangs along his neck teasingly before abruptly turning around. Tommy's tie still in my hand, I move further into the penthouse, pulling him behind me. He rushes forward and fiercely grasps my hips. His mouth meets my neck and I feel his sharp, extended fangs prick my collar. "You shouldn't turn your back to me, Scourge." 
I halt my progress, stiffening a bit. Releasing his tie, I place a hand on either of his wrists, squeezing lightly. Not turning to face him, I respond. "And why is that, Father? I hold no fear of you." I can almost sense his smile from behind me, and I feel his hand on my back, gently pushing me towards the window overlooking the field. I smirk to myself, showing a bit of resistance. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I hindering your progress?" Laughing a little, I continue. "Is it a Giovanni thing? Needing to control all situations?"
A deep chuckle from the priest."If I gave you some control, would you know what to do with it?"
I lean against him, aware that for once my physical age must be apparent. "No. I probably wouldn't." A brief burst of laughter escapes me.
His lips meet my ear, breathing heavily."Should we see what happens?" 
I turn to face him in a quick movement. Running my tongue along one of the scars on his mouth, I respond "Should we?" I draw his bottom lip in between my teeth, giving it a sharp bite.
Tommy reaches down, prodding and teasing me through the fabric of my skirt. He presses his fingers against my inner thighs and grips them tightly. "I think so. It may break me of my need for..." He brings his fingers up quickly against my lips. "Control." 
I growl quietly, nipping at his fingers, my hand reaching down under his pants to grip him tightly. "I'm certainly proficient at breaking people." My lips curl into a smile under his fingers.

He shudders, leaning an arm against me."I can see how, Lady Maddie." My smile freezes. His eyebrows raise as he smiles a devilish grin. "I'm sorry, did I say 'Maddie?'" Tommy really is self destructive. My eyes widen and I snarl at the priest. Removing my hand from below his waist, I wrap my fingers around his throat roughly, nails digging in. Staring intently into his eye, I force him back towards the dinner table. He stumbles, seeming amazed by my strength, but unafraid. Moans fill his chest and he grips my wrist near his neck. I stop as we reach the table. Squeezing his throat enough to draw blood once more, I shove Tommy down onto the polished wood. Staring at him from the foot of the table, I curl both hands around his waistband, dragging the pants down his legs. Pausing to take in the sight of the priest's pale skin, I leap upon the table. A foot on either side of his waist, I smirk down at Tommy. I bend at the knees, squatting over Tommy, not touching him. I rest my elbows on my thighs, chin resting on my linked hands as I continue staring, a half smile upon my lips. The Giovanni seems shocked to find himself on the table. He smiles tentatively as he attempts to be snarky. "Was that a bad idea to say?" He looks nervously around the room. 
"That depends, Father Maletoni. My normal reaction may differ due to my current state of mind." I lower myself so our bodies touch. 
Tommy reaches between us without hesitation, feeling the bare flesh between my legs."And what is this state of mind, Lady Maddie?" 
"Needy." I respond with a growl, moving hips against his hand. 
He follows my hips motions with his fingers, sliding in and out and over my most sensitive areas."You have an interesting idea of control, Lady Malkavian. Are you sure you're as horrible as they say you are?" He leans up and kisses my cheek playfully. 
I moan in a subdued way and put a hand on the back of his neck. Lips brushing his earlobe, I whisper "No. I'm some ways I'm really not." Turning his face to mine, I lock my mouth onto his in a fierce kiss. He matches the movement of his tongue to that of his fingers, pumping as he kisses her hungrily. I can feel a moan coming deep from his chest. I remove my hands from him only long enough to pull my shirt over my head and toss it to the floor. Replacing my hand on the back of his neck, I turn his face to the side, grazing my fangs along his throat teasingly. My other hand moves between them, positioning Tommy's hardness at my entrance. Both of his hands return to my hips, as he pulls with all of his strength to enter me. He seems to be resisting the urge to bite down, but tears into my hips with his nails.

He promised I would find a little solace, and some piece of mind. Whatever just as long as I don't feel so desperate and ravenous. I'm so weak and powerless.

I walk out onto the porch, sitting cross legged on the step even as the last rays of sun sink below the horizon. The fading light is just enough to sting at my skin. Just a brief scalding before the shroud of night takes over. Still weary, my body neglected of proper rest due to the influx of nightmares. I rub my arms and sigh, relishing the slight tenderness of my flesh. The surrounding woods are quiet. The wildlife avoiding the predator in their midst. I miss seeing the deer grazing, the occasional foxes straying from their dens. They don't come around now. Not since Mongrel left. Lookit that. You almost went a whole twenty minutes without thinking of him. Give the girl a prize! Rolling my eyes, I slip my cell phone out of my pocket. My call log is empty. I'm surprisingly relieved. At least that damn Litanny hasn't called, yet. That thought motivates me to turn the phone on silent. It has taken a mixture of extreme restraint and respect for Tommy to keep me from gnawing on the ghoul like an ear of corn. That, and the fact that the entire Giovanni clan would probably be on me like a pack of hungry dogs. I smirk a little. Respect isn't the same thing as fear, though.

What -do- I fear? Nothing that hasn't already came to fruition. Nothing that hasn't already been dragged, screaming through my own psyche. My maker. His constant tormenting rooted in my thoughts forever. The nightmares. Even 'Dipity is clever enough to know my Achilles heel. How many different ways can I lose Mongrel? How many different ways can he hurt me? Been there, done that. What am I AFRAID of?

Feeling.

I unwilling flinch away from my own thoughts. Don't shy away, Mad. You know that's what eating you. I'm becoming more human than monster. Were you ever truly a monster? "Could I ever truly be human again?" I squeeze my hands over my ears, trying to silence myself. Help. Can't anyone shut this up? I'm ashamed at how badly I crave a comforting presence. When did I become so...human..."human"...human. I clench my fists tighter against my head. Spiraling. Spiraling.

A pair of hands tighten on my shoulders. The tips of long nails digging into my collarbone. I recognize them. I don't pull away. Admit it, aren't you almost...relieved? I don't need to see his smile, I know it's there. My hands drop into my lap as I stare forward, waiting for the next series of events. Waiting for his command. A hand creeps across my throat, gripping solidly just under my jaw. I rise to my feet at his silent behest. He turns me to face him. "...I was wondering when you'd show up." I say in a small voice as I stare into my maker's steel gray eyes.
His grasp tightens hard enough to bruise. "You always come back to me, don't you monster?" Too weary. Too weary to fight him. To even WANT to fight him. So instead of fighting, instead of running. I cave. He releases his hand from my throat, and I willingly step into the circle of his arms. I still my shaking hands against his chest as he wraps me in an embrace. This shouldn't...I shouldn't... "Shhh." His long nails gently comb through my hair.
"Why..." Why are you here? 
"Because you need me, monster. Don't you? You need me to show you how you're supposed to feel." 
I whimper. "No, I don't want to feel..." 
He smiles knowingly as his hand traces around my chest, palm resting where my heart once beat. "Not...feel." He pierces the skin with his nails, drawing blood. "Feel." The pain is cleansing, it seems to clear the din from my skull. My maker looks down at me expectantly. "Tell me, pet. What do you want?" Pain. Comprehensible pain. Make me forget how to feel. His mouth is on mine. His teeth sink into my bottom lip, his tongue lapping up the vitae that drips down my chin. "Speak to me." He growls, fangs stained red.
"Hurt me. I want you to hurt me. Please. Make me remember why I'm yours." Grinning triumphantly, my maker pushes me back against the porch railing. I stand still, hands to my sides, awaiting his lesson. I close my eyes at the sound of his knife sliding from it's sheath.

The bite of the blade on my skin. It tugs as it parts the flesh. The trickle of blood from each wound is more gratifying than any tears shed. He traces the blade up my stomach, cutting a path up and over each rib. The path continues up my neck, pausing at my mouth after it traverses my chin. His whisper is heat against my ear. "Clean it for me, monster." I part my lips as he slides the blade in between. Tasting my own blood on the steel. Salted, metallic...maddening. I let slip a small sound of wanting when he removes the knife from my mouth. He chuckles darkly, teasing the blade down one arm. Halting it's movement at the crook of my elbow. The tip of the blade twists in gently and I gasp. "....hmm?" My maker strokes his thumb under my eye, willing it open. I resist until the edge of his nail presses in, just enough to draw thin blood centimeters from my eye. Meeting his lunatic gaze as he penetrates the flesh of my arm further. My blood patters onto the wood at our feet. The pattering turns to a steady flow as he drags the blade down, opening my veins. I feel the light stroke of his tongue as he samples my vitae. It sends a dark chill down my spine. The knife roams down my body again, glancing off a hip, bearing down as it reaches the top of my thigh. He thrusts it into my skin to the hilt and the shock of it makes my knees buckle. There's the flash of anger as his hand clasps around my throat again. What am I...doing? Reality tries to creep in like a fog. "No you don't!" He snarls at me. "You're not ready, yet." His voice seems to be fading even as he pulls the dripping blade from my thigh. The blood is sheeting down my leg. "....monster. Stay...stay..." The strength runs out of me quicker than my blood as I fall onto the splintered planks of the porch. And I'm fading...

Dreams and faces. Nightmares. Horror. Pain and blood. Love. Friendship. Living. Living.

Coming to, I lift my head, wincing at the ache in my throat. My thoughts are near incomprehensible. Licking my lips, they're sticky with blood. I'm sticky with blood. Caked in it. It's all my own. Did I...black out? Rising shakily, I glance down at the drying pool of crimson at my feet. I rub at my eyes with the back of hand, smearing more blood. Confused, I take a few steps towards the front door, stopping when I catch my reflection in the window. My skin is stippled and streaked with red. Blood. It oozes sluggishly from a gouge in my thigh, a gaping wound on my arm. Various slices along my chest. Dried on my bottom lip and chin. A small tear-like drop under one of my eyes, both wide with grim astonishment. Dark purple bruises ring both sides of my neck. My gaze falls on my quivering right hand. My stomach clenches. Clutched in my fist is my knife. My trusty K Bar. Lathered with gore. Blood. My empty hand raises to cover my mouth against the rising bile. My knife. My hands. My...blood.

Some of them want to use you, some of them want to get used by you. Some of them want to abuse you, some of them want to be abused.

Dawn is approaching quickly. Too quickly. I'm not ready. As the first rays of sunlight start to graze the windowsill, I hastily retreat to the bathroom. I've had enough sunburn for now. I climb into the bathtub, curling my feet under me. I can only imagine how humorous this scene would be to an outsider. A pink haired seventeen year old tucked into a bathtub, clad in Cookie Monster boxers and clutching a K Bar like some would clutch a teddy bear. A riot, indeed. Now all I need is Serendipity to provide the laugh track. I growl quietly, wondering what the Malkavian has in store for me tonight. Maybe I'll be lucky and he'll be tormenting someone else. Him and his new friends. The Regent's warning flashes though my mind.

 It overpowered me at every turn. If you come in contact with it and are not ready for one of the most desperate fights of your unlife, run....The Nightmares are coming. They are real.

Been living a nightmare since 1953. I should be prepared for anything at this point. I scoff aloud at myself. Such a brave kid. It overpowered Pyotr...what do you think is going to happen to you? "What's going to happen to me is going to happen, regardless. Do your worst 'Dipity. I'll repay in kind." My voice echoes against the tile, sounding less fearless with each reverberation. My eyelids feel heavy, my muscles are slowly relaxing out of their battle-ready tension.
As I'm drifting off, I swear I hear a faint voice. Familiar, but not one of my regulars. "....Madelyn....be alright..." What? Who is...is that Testament? And I'm asleep.

Or not. I snap awake as if someone slapped me. Strange. No one has, yet. The house is quiet in an almost unsettling way. I reflexively tighten my hand around the hilt of my knife...but...it's not there. I bring my palm up to my nose and give a hearty sniff. It was there, I did have it. I smell...I don't have time to finish my thoughts before they're interrupted by a bewildering sound. Tinny bells, like a child's toy or an ice cream truck. My brow furrows as I decipher the tune. Pop, Goes The Weasel. Pop, goes the reality, more like. In the rational point in my mind I know this is just a dream. A nightmare. One of  'Dipity's little games. And yet, there's still that absurd part of me that fears the worst. The ridiculously cheerful ditty is cut off mid-note. I hear the front door creaking open, and approaching footsteps. The footsteps are heavy, a strange noise accompanying them. Like someone dragging something behind them. I quietly rise to my feet, reaching above my head to unanchor the shower curtain rod from the wall. Better than nothin' I stand in the tub, brandishing the rod in front of me. Whatever it is out there, I ain't coming out. You want me, come get me yourself. I lean against the wall almost casually as the lurching steps continue down the hallway. Heh. Pussy. I think derisively. I hear a door down the hall open. What kind of big bad is afraid of a....A bloodcurdling shriek of agony pierces the air. "Mongrel!"  I'm out of the tub, smashing through the door before rationality can stand a chance. Don't be stupid! He's not even here! You know it's not real! It's a trap, a lure! I snarl at my own thoughts, urging them to silence, replacing them with a chant of the Gangrel's name. The hallway is dark...unnaturally cold. Each step seems to take double the time before I reach Mongrel's bedroom. I kick open the door and reel back, choking on the reek of gore.

The walls, the furniture...spattered with blood and viscera. Sticky clots of it everywhere. I can smell the blood cooking on the ceiling light bulb. The sheets are sodden with vitae. And on the bed. On the bed....a scream tears from my throat.

A perfectly innocuous ceramic bowl. Condensation forms little droplets around the rim of the bowl. Inside is what looks like a generous helping of Neapolitan ice cream. Resting comfortably in the middle of the dessert, like a macabre cherry on a sundae...I scream again as I stare into the dead, empty yellow eyes. Mongrels blond hair is caked with blood and sticky melted ice cream. The stump of his neck leaks vitae onto the ice cream. What's a sundae without strawberry syrup?! I scream, you scream...we all scream. "NO!" I snap out of the impending hysteria, swinging around to identify whatever beast did this. Lurking in the doorway is a unsettling figure. Swathed in a yellow, polka dotted suit, chalk white face grinning at me from under a shock of red hair. My sight falls to the four, heavily muscled arms that dangle to the floor. My eyes bulge in stupefaction.
The monstrosity speaks: "Hey der, wittle girl. I made cha a snack!" With a battle cry, I run at the creature, brandishing the flimsy aluminum rod like a javelin. The almost hilariousness of my weapon is lost on me as I attack. One of the creature's large fists punch the rod from my hands. "Couldn't eat da big man or the crying man. Imma eat the wittle girl!" Little girl...I hiss in anger. The creature seems to flex, his frame swelling like a body builder on steroids.
I sneer, "...that's all?" It's torso seems to erupt as a mass of skeletal tentacles burst forth. It's jaw distends, mouth unhinging like a overgrown snake. I'm shaken a bit, but square my shoulders lifting my chin to stare down the beast that dwarfs me. "Try and eat me motherfucker. I hope I give you the shits." It responds with a throaty, demonic growl, lunging at me with it's tentacles, each ending in a snapping mouth full of fangs.

The towering beast is quicker than it looks. I throw a protective arm over my face as it viciously slashes at me. My skin rips open, fresh blood patters to the carpet. I grit my teeth against the pain and attempt to dart around the beast, hoping to attack it from behind. It's too big, too clever. I sense it rearing forward to wrap me in a deadly embrace and put on an extra burst of speed. I reach the other side of the room in a flash, hefting a nightstand over my head. As it rushes at me, I heave the nightstand at it. The flimsy wood shatters against it's body. Unhindered, the beast tackles me to the ground. I feel several ribs splinter, puncturing through my airless lungs. I cough through a mouthful of blood. In desperation, I thrust myself into the creature's mind. Mind? Does this thing even have a mind?! Like flicking down an emergency switch, I try to deaden it's emotions, perhaps it will submit enough for me to get the fuck away! I learn how useless the attempt is as the creature rips into me with it's tentacles. My shredded flesh sings in agony as I try to struggle out from under the titanic beast. I can feel my limbs turning traitor with weakness as the bony extremities bite and gnash. My blood pools under me, all the strength leaving me as I watch the beast raise his fists to snuff the last bit of life from me. I...tried..

A slow, purposeful clap starts up from behind the creature, halting it's actions. "Oh good...an...audience.." I sputter out.
The familiar voice coos to the beast. "Tee hee, well done Squeaks, but give me just a moment." Serendipity comes into view, looming over me with his trademark grin. "Oh, don't mind me Maddie. Just need a few things from you!" 
I cough out a snarky response. "Not surprised. ....needy...bastard." 
Several tendrils of intangible inky lightning streak towards me. 'Dipity's voice resounds in my mind, inquiring: "What is the plan in place to destroy the Nightmare realm?" 
I snicker, mockingly in my thoughts. "I'm not aware of a plan. No one informs me of plans. They say attack...and I'll attack." Especially if you're the target...
"Oh, so -simple- Madelyn." I growl under my breath. "Who in the Camarilla knows the most about the dreamworld?" 
My thoughts mock him again, briefly settling on Testament. The Tremere seems to have more control...more understanding of this nightmare realm. "You know, Testament. Your...lost...friend?" I force my lips into a sneer, knowing it very well could be my last. 
Serendipity pauses, staring blankly at me for a full minute before..."Enjoy your meal, Squeaks." 
I use my remaining energy to shout at him. "You wonder why you're losing your friends Dip!?" This! 
Bloody tears stream down his face as he replies manically: "Not at all!" The monstrous beast Squeaks. It's name is Squeaks! lowers its face, it's jaw stretching to an impossible size. It's hot, sickly breath washes over me as it's mouth envelops my head. I gag as I'm surrounded in it's putrid maw. I feel razor sharp fangs pierce my neck in a gentle semi circle, toying with me before biting down with a sharp....

The nightmare fades. Transforms. Morphs.

I'm in a church yard, staring at the starry sky. The moon hangs low, fat and bright in my view. I feel a cooling breeze wrap around my body, a low mist curling around my ankles. Glancing around in vague curiosity as stone grave markers begin to raise from the dirt, I feel my attention pulled in another direction. My hair twists in the breeze. Upon a hill, I watch as a stairwell breaks through. A mausoleum is birthed from the ground, a small brick wall surrounding it. Around the yard, a iron fence grows like hedges. The tips of the fence are topped with thick, sharp spikes. There's no gate. No entrance, no exit. More grave stones pop up from the earth. The names on them are unrecognizable but I know...I know...Those who have died. Died in the realm. The nightmare realm. The once empty church yard seems alive with it's new additions. As if it's all been waiting. Waiting in the ground to rise up and claim more lives. I hear the sound of children playing, their voices carried on the wind. An ethereal chill follows. There's no looming danger. No tangible threat. And still...my body dissolves into an uncontrollable trembling. An ascending roar of thunder rolls along the yard. There's no storm. That's not thunder...

I awaken with a start, subsequently bashing my head on the underside of the faucet. Gingerly touching my scalp, I feel precious vitae seeping from the point of impact. Am I? I am. I'm awake. The fresh liquid mingling with the blood already drying my hair into clotted knots. "What...the..." I scream in pain as a shudder wracks through my body. The scream morphs to a moan of panic as I set eyes on the damage. The porcelain of the bathtub is caked with my own blood. Streaks of it are drying on the walls of the tub. My legs are bent at unnatural angles, both shattered tibia tearing through the flesh in several spots. I stare, horrified and mesmerized by the fluorescent overhead light glancing off the stark white bones. I attempt to shift myself, grimacing at the pool of vitae sloshing in the bottom of the tub. The broken bones grate together in a nauseatingly painful way. Head spinning, I lean against the blood sticky wall. I still hear the faint sound of children playing, smell the loamy earth of the graveyard. With a shaking hand, I reach over the lip of the bathtub. Grasping my cell phone, I flip it open, thumb hovering over Mongrel's number. Between my misgivings from turning to him for help again, and the potential conniption fit he would have seeing me in this state, I snap the phone closed. Dropping it back onto the tile, I re-attempt to exit the bathtub. Weak from blood loss, I fall backwards, grabbing the shower curtain for leverage and pulling it off the rings in the process. Landing with a piercing shout, I watch the poppies of her blood bloom on the fabric as it settles into the tub. My eyes are threatening to slip shut again. Have to stay...awake. I think to myself, desperate not to fall into another nightmare. Leaning forward a bit, I poke at the sharp edge of the exposed bone. S'not gonna heal if I leave it like this. Pressing my hand against the shattered limb, I pull the skin back enough to wriggle the jagged edges of bone back against each other. A few skeletal chips break off, falling into the tub with a tiny splash. Blood flows from the lacerated skin, adding to the growing pool I'm seated in. I pause, catching my metaphorical breath. Suck it up, Mad. Can't very well feed until you sort yourself out. I catch myself wishing for some sort of comforting presence. If anything, just someone...someone...to offer alleviation against these physical...and mental, don't forget that...ailments. I glance at my phone again. Growling in anger, anger at myself, I grasp the second leg, forcing the bones into place with a hint of prenatural strength. The re-setting is effective, too much so. In my agitation I send another fissure down the center of the bone. My nerves feel aflame with agony. With a whimper, I sink low into the tub, pressing my cheek against the cold porcelain. I pant quietly, the pain keeping me awake as I concentrate on using my depleted vitae to knit the shattered bones, heal the tattered flesh. Serendipty. You'll pay. And if you didn't do this, I'll find out who did. They'll pay. My pain, everyones pain...in thrice.

Arms wide open, I stand alone. I'm no hero, and I'm not made of stone. Right or wrong, I can hardly tell. I'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell.

I awaken with a hiss of pain, my scorched skin stuck to the filthy carpet. Blinking a few times, clearing the film of red that clouds my vision, I painfully pull myself into a sitting position. What the? Oh...right. The previous night, and morning, comes back to me in a agonizing rush. I wrap my arms around myself for a moment while I try to get a hold of my emotions. Let's not break down again, ok? Try to keep your shit together for at least a few hours. I unconsciously rock back and forth for a few minutes. Feeling like I've grasped sanity enough, I rise to my feet. The house I squatted in is long since empty.Theres a few pieces of furniture scattered around. Some signs that mortals have been using it for a crash pad. Probably a good thing there aren't any around right now, I think they'd find themselves violently evicted. I wander into the bathroom, checking the mirror to see what damage I did to myself. The glass is cracked down the middle, splitting my reflection in two. Cracked...how appropriate. I think bitterly. My face stares back at me, it's almost painful to look at. My green eyes stand out in contrast to the red rimmed sockets. My skin...oh, how lovely...is a moist, raw shade of crimson. Flinching at the face in the mirror, I turn away. It could be worse. Dead worse, I suppose. I sigh a little when I think of what I almost achieved. Good thing I'm not a coward, and good thing Ms Lucy was kind enough to give me those Celerity lessons. I'll have to thank her again when I...when I'm able to. I rub at my face, giving out a yelp when I abrade the tender flesh. Ok, I guess I better eat. For once, I don't have the excited blood lust that abounds when I go on the hunt. I push my morose feeling aside and take off from the house, unconsciously fading from view as I search out a meal.

After I feed, shocking myself with my rather tame actions during the act, I slip back into Obsfucate and amble along as I ponder my next move. I'm paranoid and on edge, every time my mind starts creeping towards...him. It's almost lonely in my skull, my own thoughts seem to be predominant for once. Before I realize it I start up a painfully familiar path. My feet once again betraying my thoughts. Oh, you idiot. You're just asking for an episode aren't you? When I reach the break in the woods and set eyes on the house I have to stop and gather my bearings again. What did I expect? C'mon Mad. Pull your fucking self together. It's just a house. Just a house. It was our house. Our...home. I growl under my breath. Man the hell up. With that thought I march up to the porch, and through the front door.

Hold it together. Hold it together. I repeat the mantra in my head as I head to my room. Passing his, I glance in despite my better judgement. It's bare and empty. My heart give a lurch. When I take a deep breath to try to calm myself, all I inhale is his spicy, woodsy scent. Before I know it I'm on my knees, trembling as those wretched tears start up again. Stop it. Stop it you pathetic....Just shut the fuck up, GET the fuck up and do what you came here to do. I drag myself to my feet, still weeping, and speed into my own bedroom. Wiping my face angrily, I grab a backpack. From my end table I extract my news clippings, folding them with care and place them in the front pocket of my bag. I grab my ipod, and a few other odds and ends that hold a little meaning to me. I look around the room, contemplating my other belongings. Thinking of the upcoming Elysium, I pick up another bag and shove a few changes of clothes in it. Really? You're really considering going back there? Ya think you're strong enough to face everyone, everyone including him? I lift my chin. Yeah. Guess I am. While the easiest decision would seem to be to just uproot and move on from Baltimore, I feel compelled to stay. There's nothing but physical, and mental battles going on here but I've set too many ties. I've got too many unanswered questions. Too many battles I yearn to fight. Too many...friends. I shake my head ruefully at that mind boggling notion. I exit the house, locking the door behind me. I start to rear my arm back to chuck the keys into the woods, but stop myself. Who knows, maybe I'll be strong enough to come back eventually. Maybe he will, too. With that bit of wishful thinking I put on a burst of speed and make my way back to my abandoned safe haven.

Some time later, I'm sitting on the ratty couch, staring into the dark through the dingy window. The reflection that periodically glances at me has improved slightly since feeding. My skin no longer looks like an open, festering wound. It's still sore, but at least the angry pink of the scorched flesh matches my hair. Phil Collins, Against All Odds plays in my ears. With each song of loss and heartbreak, I start to think my Ipod has a personal vendetta against me. Yes. Because obviously, electronics want to witness your demise. I take the ear plugs out with a sigh. Why didn't I just follow through? Even if my soul...I scoff at that notion...was destined for hell, how much worse could it be than here and now? My vision starts to blur red again, and I absently start gouging holes into the already tattered upholstery. Oh, for christ sakes STOP. If I start crying again I'll gouge my eyes out.  My own thoughts inquire, Then what's stopping you? "What -did- stop me?" I wonder aloud. I'm a lot of things, but a coward has never been one of them. That can't be the only reason. I think of the agony of never seeing those haunting yellow eyes again. I'm acting like a lovesick teenager. Oh...wait. I shake my head at myself.
"You're acting like the ultimate emo kid. You want some Good Charlotte and a straight razor to go with that?" I crack a smile at the phantom intonation of my dhamphir partner in crime. Fate's imaginary voice sets my mind on her disappearance . Wherever she is, she better be ok. I don't make friends just for them to meet untimely demises.

Friends. Once again I'm dwelling on that strange sentiment. I've managed to get in good graces with the majority of the Kindred, but aren't some of theses allegiances something more? Do I not genuinely care for Miss Lucy? The Toreador treats me with such kindness, almost as if she sees something other than the monster. And Marcus...with whatever ill things I've heard of the Tremere, he shows me respect and equality. Going as far as defending me during the Council meeting. Even I can appreciate that. Then there's the camaraderie I'm finding with Father Maletoni. Even without the favor he's doing for me, haven't Tommy and I fallen into an easy association? Don't I find myself getting chummy with the Gangrel? Munin, Nyck, Samantha...I don't even have to fake interest in conversation with them. Although I've always had a soft spot for Gangrel. I think, wryly. Wouldn't I feel an inkling of sorrow to sever those ties? Feel the bitter sting of tears at their bereavement? Bereavement. The word and it's associations bring a painful thoughts to focus. Am I not currently trying to ignore the possibility that I very well may have suffered a permanent loss of a dear...friend?

I briefly relive the alarming moment when I heard the news report. Fire. An explosion at a private airplane hangar. Said airplane due to return to Las Vegas. I didn't even notice the remote being crushed into unidentifiable shards of plastic as I watched. No. No. Tybalt. The last memory before I left Elysium that night. Tybalt's eyes, dark and intense as they bored into mine. "Maddie, leave the club. Now. I'm warning you because I like you.." I put faith in his demand and procured a hasty exit. Later, hearing of the explosion at Elysium, I knew I owed Tybalt tremendous gratitude. Gratitude I planned on repaying until...

I snap back into the present. Do you really believe he's dead, Mad? I chew at my nails, perturbed. How could he survive that? Tybalt is beyond powerful but...all that fire. The concept that once again, someone I care about ceases to exist sends me into another wave of sadness. Even indirectly, it just seems tragedy comes to anyone I hold in high regard. I pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around them and shielding my face. Maddie, the purveyor of devastation. It's true. From my family and on, I've alienated and destroyed anything that came close to the monster. I seized Law from his pack, his friends, and then what? Gave him false hope for years just to disappear when he revealed his true feelings. I practically took Jonah's life with my own hands. And now Mongrel...I press my face into my knees harder, hoping the physical pain will distract me from the emotional affliction.

"Hurts doesn't it, darlin'?" My head flies up in shock at the familiar purr of a voice. Well, this is a new hallucination, isn't it? Law taps a claw over his chest, "Just around here, am I right?" I'm dumbstruck as the specter of my former Friend? Lover? Roommate? takes a seat next to me. "Cat got your tongue?" He asks, his mouth twisted into the same toothy grin I remember.
"Why...why are -you- here?" I'm so used to the more threatening delusions that this one puts me on edge more than usual.
Law shrugs. "Who else could relate to having someone you love up and leave you?" 
I flinch. "...guess I deserve that." 
He rolls his eyes. "There's your problem. You're so hard up on not accepting the consequences for the changes you've been facing." I look at him, confused. Changes? "Why do you think you deserve that?" 
My brow furrows. "Because you're one of the many people I've hurt." "Ah, right. Maddie...sorry...Madelyn the purveyor of destruction." I'm beginning to get irritated, once again feeling like I'm missing some crucial point. Law smiles again. "If only I met you at this time in your life. Things might of worked out better for your ol' tiger." 
"What makes you say that?" I ask, genuinely confused.
"You tellin' me you haven't noticed?" He laughs, and rests a hand on my shoulder. I'd be lying if I said the contact wasn't comforting, despite the illusion of it. "There. That right there. You know how long it took before I could touch you without you flinching like a rabbit in a snare?" I'm well aware. The difficulty of discerning that every bit of physical contact wasn't a predecessor to violence. "Now lookit you. While you're never going to be as brazen as most Kindred are, you're certainly more susceptible to the physical aspect of unlife." Thinking on some of those more...physical encounters...I'm glad my cheeks are already red. "Then there's all...this." He gestures to me. I don't have to question him this time. For every bit the wreck I look on the outside, it doesn't hold a candle to..sigh...I look at him, tapping a finger over my own heart. He nods. "It's easier when you believe you're a monster, isn't it? Easier than admitting that you're not as dead inside as you thought." And there are those treacherous tears again. I don't fight them this time. They're probably not what I should have been fighting, anyway. "You've come a long way, darlin'. You've been battling with the wrong part of yourself for too long. Now it's not just you in this war. You've got yourself some soldiers. They're fighting for you. Even the broody blond." He makes a face. Even as a delusion, he's still got Law's sass. Staring at my feet, I feel a pang of guilt. I really do owe that boy a...something. An apology. An explanation. Maybe an offering of body parts. Law's apparition gets up, walking towards the door.
"Keep fighting the good fight. You're a warrior, Maddie. My Maddie." Once again my head snaps up. Law's gone, and in his place...
"Daddy?" He gives me a proud smile. Oh, Daddy. Can I do it? Am I really strong enough? It's so hard, there's so much... My father nods, and as his image fades from view...

O' Fortuna starts inexplicably playing from my pants pocket. I'm befuddled, wondering what kind of phantasm this could be  Oh, right...cell phone. I feel a spark of hope as I pull the phone from my pocket, but it fizzles when I see an unknown number. Really? How'd I get so damn popular? I flip it open, answering in a dull monotone. "...hello." A very recognizable voice speaks on the other end, sending a genuine spark of happiness through me for the first time this week. A grin spreads across my face as the friendly voice pauses, my gleeful response being, "I fucking KNEW IT!"

Nothing good will come of this. I’m screaming out with my last aching breath. I’ll be yours until my dying day, but I can never see you.

On an unseasonably cool evening, the leaves impatiently rustling with an impending storm, Mongrel asked me to accompany him after the council meeting on the previous night. His tone of voice makes me wary, but my full trust in him leads me to follow without hesitation. He takes us to secluded pond, gesturing for me to sit beside him on the bench that over looked it. He stares out over the water for a moment before turning his gaze on me. "Hey um... I got you something... umm...I know you've been on a liver kick lately so I got a child's. Don't ask. Wasn't easy. Here." He passes the package to me with an awkward smile. 
I return the smile, my eyebrows narrowing. "Not that I don't appreciate gifts but they're usually given by people afraid of, or trying to appease me." 
He's quiet for a moment, I watch his expression with a cautious look of my own. "I guess I should be afraid of you but I'm not... as for the other bit, I do want you to be happy which is why I'm... which is why I need to be honest with you. Completely." The hairs seem to stand up on the back of my neck. I want to believe it's from the static in the air, but even I know better.

"Madelyn, I know 'Dipity was in your head and I know he must've said... must've made you see some terrible stuff. Baltimore isn't doin' too hot if you haven't noticed and just in case... things happen... I want you to know some things." He takes my hands, looking deep into my eyes. "First and foremost I want you to know that I love you. I will always love you. Everything I do, everything I did though it was perhaps misguided was to protect you." I'm doing my damnest to keep a emotionless, calm demeanor. I'm sure Mongrel's not oblivious to the panic that must be bubbling in my eyes. 
Realizing he's waiting for some sort of response, I manage two syllables before lapsing back into a guarded silence. "...o...k?" 
As he speaks, his voice seems to be doubled in timbre by a familiar, mocking tone. No, no. Don't you dare. Not now. "Secondly, I will NEVER restrain you like I did. I should've known better but sometimes I'm young and stupid. I thought it would protect you. You're older than I, and able to take care of yourself. The only exception to this I will make is if you are frenzying. Then I will put you in a safe place. Is that alright?" He pauses, seemingly unnerved from my uncharacteristic quiet. "I give you permission to do the same to me if I'm frenzying or otherwise."

I speak around the mumbling and laughter that is slowly increasing pitch in my mind. "Mongrel, I..." I wince. "I know you do what you do to protect me. Even if it isn't completely necessary....but...if I frenzy...heh...well.." I rub my forehead unconsciously. "I guess I won't really notice what you do to me." I try to get control of myself, as to not worry him. "I am a bit more capable of taking care of myself then you may think, though. And also...not used to having someone show me that I don't always have to." 
He chuckles sadly, "Heh. Same here, Maddie." I try to let the caring tone in his voice penetrate my increasing fear.

He takes a deep breath and seems to brace himself, "Lastly, what I need to be honest about..." he's quiet for a moment, choosing his words, watching me with big yellow eyes filled with worry and more emotions than I can discern. "... I'm blood bonded to Pyotr mutually, it was part of our deal in order to learn Celerity. Before that though I did... admire him even if I didn't entirely trust him. During our training... things got complicated. We um... we..." he trails off and chews at his lip nervously, watching my every move. 
I feel a disembodied hand grip my shoulder, I don't even have to look to know the owner. Remember, monster. Remember what I've been warning you about... I meet his stare, my body unnaturally still. "...oh?"

Red tears begin to well up in his eyes. Pathetic. A voice growls in my head. Get out of here you bastard. GET OUT. "We... had sex. Twice. I was afraid to... I don't know what this is. It just sort of happened. ... Now---" I can't control myself to meet his eyes. He lunges forward before I can respond. Gently but firmly he grabs the sides of my face, forcing me to look at him, "Use your Auspex, Maddie. Please. " his voice is soft and pleading. Look at him. That mutt. Begging you. Monster, you don't have to put up with this. He's betrayed you. Just like I said he would. You KNOW what you need to do.

I'm silent for about a minute. My maker's voice hisses in my subconscious, demanding me to retaliate. Moving slowly, but almost mechanically I removes Mongrel's hands from my face and place them in his lap. I start to rub at my head, as if I can erase the voices that way. I need to get away. I'm not...not safe right now. Feeling a strange lurch in my mind, I quickly rise from the bench, stepping a few few back and linking my hands behind my back. "And what...would I be looking for?" I squeeze my hands together hard enough to draw blood, fighting the urge to...No. I'd never. A vision of myself losing control. Attacking Mongrel. PLEASE STOP! I feel the blood dripping from my clenched fists. No one hurts my monster but me. When I speak aloud, I hear a strange inflection in my own voice. "Didn't he.." STOP! "...you...didn't YOU just tell me what I need to know?"

"Because I think what you will see will do a better job of explaining than I ever could with words." 
In a voice that's not completely like my own I respond, "Oh, what she...I could see, eh?" I shake my head, trying to clear my maker's voice from my mind. From my own words. Without looking at Mongrel, I speak calmly. "I don't know if I want to see what's in there, Mongrel."

He stands and inches towards me, voice soft and almost tangibly dripping with pain. Good. Good. Let him hurt. STOP STOP! "Trust me... that is all I ask of you. I never imagined I'd actually begin to feel for you... and then even then I never foresaw us becoming more... I pined for you, Madelyn, but it was always touch and go. I could never get close to you and now... in our time together I have never failed you... all I have ever done, was to protect you. Let me show you why."
Excuses, monster. Is that how you love someone? How you protect someone? Certainly even I showed my true intentions at all times. How could someone who -loves- you so be capable of this sort of behavior? I step back a little. In a quiet voice, not directed towards Mongrel, I whisper, "...you were right..." My face contorts in sorrow. "No!" I shout, and looks up at him. "I...you. Mongrel maybe I should..." Go. Maybe I should go before I do something I regret...

Madelyn, please... come back to me. Please. I need you to see... it's tearing me up--" Blood tinged tears streak down his face. 
I start to cover my own face with my hands, but I stop when I see the ruby liquid smeared across the wounds on my palms. Staring at it for a moment I look into Mongrel's eyes. My lips curl into a unwanted smile. The smile is evil and looks out of place. Beyond my control, my maker's voice rasps through my mouth. "You sure you want me in your head, boy?" I gasp in a breath, shaking my head. Leave him alone! 
When I meet Mongrel's eyes again, my own are filled with tears. Mongrel growls at the inflection in my voice. He flickers and blurs, wrapping me up in his arms in an instant, staring into my eyes. "I'm not afraid of you." As to whom he's talking to is unclear, his voice is a low growl as he strokes my temple with his thumb, "Come back to me? Please? I can't lose you too."

I flinch, my face reflecting a fight for control. Such a brave pup. No wonder you love this one, monster. His fire matches yours.. Speaking in that voice again, I say, "Doesn't matter if you're afraid...she is. She always will be, and you're just solidifying that fear." I sob. "...please stop..." "Make me." I growls. "Better yet, make him do it." I look up at Mongrel, terrified. Oh, god. I can't lose control like this! You can't make me. I have to get away. 
I pull away a fraction but Mongrel refuses to let go, his voice is strong and something just above a growl, "She's not yours anymore. Now, you best let her go because you know I never will." His voice feels like a burning spear through my heart, simultaneously gouging and cauterizing. And still my maker taunts me. He'll let you go. The time will come when he'll tear you from your false little paradise. The only way to stop this is to rid yourself of him! 
I whimper. "Why? Why don't any of you let me go?"

Mongrel twitches at the question, eyes and voice going soft, "... Maddie? I-I'm sorry. I'll... let you go if you want me to." 
Laughter echoes in my head. "No...not...you? Oh, god." I start unconsciously digging my fingers into the cuts on my hands, rending them open further. Hoping the pain will bring me back to myself. "Please just let me...let me go." I looks up at Mongrel, scared, shaking my head. Not you. Not you! Why can't he hear me? 
A few more tears roll down his cheeks as he gently takes my wrists and kisses at where I dug my nails in. Releasing me with a small sob, "As you wish." 
Hahaha, there you go monster. There's one way to do it. I shake my head again and grip his coat. I'm trying to push him away, despite the fact that my hands refuse to relinquish their grasp. He seems confused and hesitantly re wraps his arms around me protectively. The disembodied voice growls angrily in my head. "...stop...please just stop..." I look up, my face impossible to read with all the emotions running through it. "he won't...won't let me..."

Mongrel gently pulls me down on the grass with him, wrapping his arms around me, he begins stroking my hair murmuring, "I'm here. I'm here Maddie." 
I want to give in so badly. But to whom? "Yeah...you are..." I try half heartedly to pull away, but my body collapses into Mongrels arms. I'm such a mess. "No wonder you..." I shake my head sadly. 
His face reflects a heart breaking sadness. "I'm sorry. So so so sorry. If you had just looked... I'm sorry. I-I-I wanted to show you how much I love you." 
I can't be trusted in your head Mongrel. You shouldn't even trust me in your arms..Laughter. Oh, please monster. Let's play in your loves mind. What fun we could have. Let's see how much he -loves- you. My vision becomes blurry and red. "But...really. He's right, isn't he? How could you? There's just no winning is there? Not for a monster." Tears run down my face. "I understand, Mongrel. Is is...it's what I deserve." My thoughts linger on all I've hurt. Law. Jonah. I am just a monster. Why would I ever think I could achieve anything other than misery?

Mongrel speaks, "Whenever I've looked at you -never- have I seen a monster... even when you were drenched in blood and surrounded by bodies... all I saw was a scared girl. I thought I could save you... then I realized you didn't need saving." 
I stare at him, trying to view myself through his eyes. "Is that possible?" Of course it's not possible, monster! No one can see you as anything but what I made you into. I angrily wipe the tears from my face. "Stop! Godamn you..." I bury my head in Mongrel's chest "....sorry."

"Oh, Mongrel. Just...give up on me. Go...go find what you need in someone else. Him. Whoever." my voice is desolate. "I'm not worth it right now. Ever. I never was. He's right about that." I sigh. "...I'm right about that." 
I feel his lips curve into a smile against my hair, "That would be easier, wouldn't it? However, I'm the stubborn type. I will -never- let you go unless you want me to. You are worth it." 
My maker is waging war on my mind. That silly pup. To think that I'll ever let him have you. You're MINE and I will never let you go. "So many just won't let me go..." I barely notice my words were spoken aloud. "Are they so different?" I speak to Mongrel. "I don't want you to let me go. But I know...how can I expect to keep you?" Is this really what it feels like? Being human? Feeling?
Mongrel's voice interrupts my thoughts. "The difference is you're not my captive, Maddie. The difference is I wish you wouldn't let go of me." 
I look up at him, shocked. "You think I could let go of you?" He believes me so much stronger than I am. "No. That's the hard part. The bad part. I'd hold on till it killed me." It will, monster."...and it probably will." I say in an undertone, echoing my maker's words. It'll probably kill both of us. 
"Not if I can help it." He kisses my forehead. 
Haha, he won't be able to help it. No one will. NO ONE. At the touch of his lips, I whimper quietly. Frightened, yet desperate for his touch.

"Oh. Sorry" he says, misinterpreting my reaction. He pulls away a bit but still retains his hold on me. I take one of his hands and place it on my chest. 
"You know, if there's anything in there. Anything worth having ...it's yours." I sigh in response to the perturbed growl that echoes in my thoughts. "Oh, he's so angry with me..." I mumble to myself.
He caresses my temples lovingly, "Too bad. You don't belong to him. You belong to yourself, Maddie. I will do what I can to protect you." H
e can only protect you out there, monster. In here...you're mine. He can't save you. I frown. "Good luck with that one. He almost...almost.." I shudder. He's almost winning. ALMOST?! Monster, I have won. Your pet has seen to that. I stiffen in Mongrel's arms, whimpering quietly. "...please don't...please.." I look in his eyes, my face reflecting a fierce emotional battle. 
He strokes my hair lovingly, "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere until I know you're alright."
"Mongrel..." I say warily. "..you may have to..I can't control..." Please, just leave me. No no monster. We want him to stay. He hurt you, now it's his turn. Let's make him pay. I start to argue out loud. "You're wrong! He...you can't make me..." I pull away from his embrace. "I'm not safe right now." I say to him with a growl. 
"No," he says calmly, "You're not. Which is why I'm going to hold you." 
The thought of him bringing himself into such close proximity when the danger is so close to rearing it's head sends a panic through me. "No! You're the last person that should be here if I'm..." I clutch at my head and speak in a lower voice. "Let him stay, monster...let the boy see the real you...see if he still loves you then.." Stop! GET OUT OF ME! 
"I'm not afraid of you." He whispers to me, "And I'm not afraid of -you- either, mister." he whispers in response to the the other voice coming from me.

I rise to my feet, narrowing my eyes at Mongrel. "Not afraid of me? That's ok little pup. We know what you're afraid of.." "...stop...stop.." I say in a desperate voice. He stands too, still watching me, speaking in a voice that's calm and loving,
"Yes you do. You know all my weaknesses and yet I stand before you. You can do your worst but it will not change the fact that I love you and I am here for you and I will do all that I can to protect you."
My thoughts are filled with my maker's voice, I struggle to speak in my own cadence. "I know your weaknesses...I'm one of them." I say in a small voice. Then, more assertive, I respond, "Protect her? How do you expect to protect her? By doing what you did?" I sneer. "I must say I'm impressed, even I never managed to inflict pain like this on her." 
"No, that was a mistake, I know that now. By keeping others from harming her as best as I can... such as yourself." He speaks to my change of voice, almost like he knows it's a hallucination but playing into it anyway, his voice softens, "Maddie come back to me. Maddie, please?" I sob aloud, covering my face with my hands. Desperate to be in control. Desperate to keep him away, to keep him safe. He approaches me but keeps a distance, "Maddie, I want to hold you. Maddie?"
 I pull my hands from my face with a growl, reaching down to my boot. Pulling out my hunting knife, I point it at Mongrel. "Stay...back." I says in a harsh voice. The hand with the knife in it trembles the slightest bit. Maybe if I scare him away. He'll be safe from me. No. Not from me. I'd never.. From him FROM HIM! Quicker than I, he darts forward knocking it out of my hand as he steps towards me. He kicks it out of reach.

Please. Please don't make me hurt him. NO NO! I won't! I WON'T! I hiss angrily, even as I feel a relief wash over my face. "I'm serious...boy..." the voice snarls out of me. I shake my head frantically. NO. GET OUT.  "Mongrel...please..." 
He stays at arm's reach but doesn't come any closer. Standing there with his hands up, "Still here." he says calmly.
He...won't. Leave me. I wrap my arms around myself, speaking in a soft voice, "..still here..he's still here..what's your next move?" The mocking, evil voice in my head is silent. Is it? Did he leave? Am I...are we safe? Abruptly I fall to my knees. Mongrel inches towards me on his knees tentatively wrapping his arms around me. His touch is so welcome I find myself overwhelmed. How can I do this? "Don't." I beg him.. "Please, it's too much. It's too much and it...hurts. I don't understand."
Mongrel whispers, "Are you speaking to me or him? He isn't real, he's just a mirage, Maddie."
I know. I know. You're here. He'll always leave when you're here, Mongrel. I look up at him, tears spilling from my eyes. "You, Mongrel. I'm talking to you." Perplexed by my own thoughts and feelings. "Why do I feel? Like...this?" Hurt. So hurt. Hurt and I just want him to heal me. "Don't." I say again, not even sure who I'm directing my words to. 
He looks at me seriously, eyes appearing far older than a twenty-three year old's, "Do you want me to? I don't think you do which is why I'm still here." 
No, please don't...don't listen to me. Stay with me. Oh, my love. That's what all this is, isn't it? I don't know how to handle this love. "No, no. I want you. I want you here. But...why?" I hold a hand to my chest. He just smiles, watching me, waiting for me to speak. "Is this what it's like? To truly feel and...love?""And...hurt?" 
"I suppose." He whispers into my neck.
I begin to relax in his embrace. Silent for a few moments, when I finally speak again my voice is sad, remorseful. "Oh, god. Mongrel I'm...I'm so sorry." How can I let myself get so out of control? What if I had hurt him? Even if he...hurt me. I'm disgusted with myself. 
He kisses my forehead gently, "Maddie? Are you back?" I close my eyes briefly at the feel of his kiss. I nod, wrapping my arms around him, quietly weeping. "I'm--I'm sorry I---I didn't mean to trigger this." Oh, Mongrel. Not as sorry as I am. I'm sorry that I lose control. I'm sorry that you have to love me. "I guess I should've known. I'm sorry."
"...s'not your fault. Not really. I'm kind of a mess on my own accord, aren't I?" 
"I think you're doing pretty good considering." He smiles.
How can he believe in me after all this? I raise my head, giving him a skeptical look. "Sure. I mean, I didn't gut you...or Dement you...or..." I bury my head in his coat, ashamed. I speak again, my voice muffled and quiet."...Christ..." Christ I love you, Mongrel. Christ I wish I could be...sane for you. Human, for you.

He picks up my knife and tucks it into his trench coat before helping me up. Trying to lighten the mood, I jest. "I'll expect that back when I...yeah." I give him a half hearted smile, but my face remains sad and weary. 
"What was that? I'm a stubborn motherfucker and you love me for it?' I thought so." The half smile twitches into a more natural one."Yes, when you're not all stabby stab, I will give it back."
"When am I -not- all...never mind." I tentatively take his hand.

As they make it back to our haven and walk up the gravel lane to the secluded house, Mongrel addresses me, his tone catching me off guard. "Madelyn I want you to have the house. It's in your name now. You don't have to follow through with the historical renovations so long as you keep paying the bills, they aren't much. I know you can manage." I still, staring at him blankly. What?
"They won't care, they won't follow up, I pulled some strings. It is a safe place that few know about. Only myself, Simon, and Magnus really." Confusion sets it's hooks in me. What is he doing?
I look at him suspiciously. "Why? Are you.." What the hell is he...after what just..I don't understand. Cutting myself off, looking worried, I ask. "Why do you want me to have the house?"
We get to the front porch and he lets me go, leaning on the railing. There are more tears in his eyes that he seems to be trying to fight. He fails his own battle and they spill over while he talks... "You need something of your own and we both need space." 
My heart seems to simultaneously burst into flames and drop into a pit of nothingness. He's...he's leaving me. Oh my...god.
I stare at him. "But..." My face reflects the terror I feel for a split second, before I wipe it clean of emotion. I struggle to speak for a moment, but manage to respond in a detached voice. "Oh. Well. That's what you want. Ok." This is what he wants. What he wanted all along? But I don't want...I turn my face, avoiding meeting eyes with him again. If I look at him. I think I'll just die. There's no way. No way I can take losing him. Please. Please, no. 
"Madelyn" he says in an almost fatherly voice, "I'm not leaving you, just giving you freedom since you are capable of taking care of yourself. I mean it as a gift. I will still be around if you want me to." He gives a wry smile, "And think of it this way, you get all the hot water." His attempt at humor is lost on me. I still can't look at him 
"Ok." I say in that same detached voice. "You're right." Of course you're right. Everyone was right. How did I ever EVER expect to keep him? Why did I think my pathetic excuse for love could hold him to me? Why...why am I so fucking...I cut the thought off. Gotta keep control. Maybe...hey...maybe I can keep him from hurting at least. 
Mongrel seems conflicted, he's still crying bloody tears but manages to keep his voice steady. "You have my cell if you need me. If you -EVER- need me... I um don't hesitate... Maddi--Madelyn."

His last words cause me to look up, well aware of the agony that shows on my face despite my cool response. "Well...thanks. I'll make sure to give you call if I need you...Sheriff." I turn my back to him, stepping back off the porch. Just like that. It's that...that easy. Easy. It's...easy. Oh god. No. No. I hear him give a loud sob behind me. Stop it! Just stop it! Set me on fire! Stab me. KILL ME! Just please stop this. 
I hear his voice, faint as he flickers and disappears down the driveway. "Sorry." I hear the roar of his truck start up before I'm lost in the swirling pain in my thoughts. How could he? How can I? I can't. I CAN'T. I need him! Please, Mongrel! I need you. I....I love you! Please, please, please I can't...how can I live without...I beg for him in my mind, knowing it's pointless. Pathetic. Stupid! I'm so fucking stupid! How did I not realize this is how it would end? That it would end at all? I hear a keening in the air, like a dying animal. It's only when I notice the burning trail of tears down my face that I realize I'm making the sound. I'm falling apart without making a move. Everything. Everything is falling apart. Please. Can't I just die? My feet start moving. Moving away from the house. There's no way I can stay in there without him. The empty house. Empty. Why can't I empty out? I think of my few possesions. The worn news article with my only tangible memory of my family. My feet keep moving. My walk turns into a run, as if I can outrun the pain. Idiot. When have you ever been able to hide from pain? Never.

Before I know it, dawn is threatening. I start towards the shelter of a abandoned building, but pause several feet before I reach the entrance. Oh. My body seems to realize my plans before my mind does. Well, that's simple. Of course, Madelyn. The sky starts to lighten. I forgot how beautiful the sky could be. Pathetically, I find myself wishing I could share the beauty of it with...STOP. Just fucking let it go. Like he's letting you go. Let it all go. This is one thing you can be strong enough to do. My skin feels hot. It hurts, but I'm not stranger to pain. Not at all. I set my eyes on the rising sun for the first time in over fifty years. Don't remember it being that...bright. The heat increases as my skin starts to burn. And as hard as I'm trying to let go...as much as I want to give up...

I use what could possibly be the last remaining bit of strength and rush to the shelter in a blur of speed. When my scorched, damaged body makes it into one of the windowless rooms, I collapse with a scream. Despite the burns covering my flesh, my scream is not one of physical pain. It echoes in the empty building, I find myself expecting it to destroy the foundation of the walls themselves. Bury me in my pain. No...such...luck. I curl in the corner, allowing the pull of sleep drag me under, my last thought being of my...no. Not mine. Not mine anymore.