Nobody move, nobody gets hurt. But where's the fun in that, I've got to satisfy the thirst.

They say hell hath no fury like a Malkavian scorned. Well, I don't actually know who "they" are and if they said that or not. But that's beyond the point. As much as I appreciate some quality suffering, I do not appreciate when I'm the one receiving it.

Quarantine has been lifted. After several days of vomiting, boils, boredom and psychotic episodes it seemed as if whatever illness that was ailing our little undead five-some had cleared up. Minus my inescapable psychosis. Release was sought, and still denied. We were all "examined" by some Tremere lackey. By examined I mean peeked in on, given the thumbs up and then left to fester for another THREE DAYS. I somehow managed to keep my cool. Mostly. I may or may not have left a few obscene blood inscribed doodles on the wall. Try explaining those to the maid. Then emancipation began with the loud clanging of the vault door opening. In a flash, the Ventrue were up and voicing bawdry complaints.
Mongrel held back, assessing the situation. The situation being my paper thin self control and the few human servants between us and liberation. "Do NOT attempt to dine on the Sheriff's help." 
I try to appear as appeasing as possible. "I'll behave." He retains a firm grip on my arm as we hightail it out of this damnable prison. I can't help but leave on my own terms so I chant my own jaunty little tune. "Free at last,  free at last. Now Madelyn's gonna rip up some ass!" Mongrel snorts laughter next to me and we make our getaway.

We're halfway home when I start to get twitchy. The compulsion is practically burning a hole through my being. My eyes skitter back and forth, probing the area for a victim. Mongrel senses my voracity and stops walking. "Do you need to go? Now?" I nod distractingly, still surveying with the eyes of a hunter. He grabs my chin, forcing me eye to eye. "Be smart about it, clean up after yourself and most importantly try to keep your head on straight." I give him my assurance and he releases me. "Call if you need me." he says over his shoulder while retreating. I note his haste. I know there's apprehension. It's a lot like letting a rabid dog off his leash to massacre the neighborhood. A tiny, almost non-existent part of me wants to follow after him. Call off the hunt and behave myself. Spare Mongrel's indirect guilt and an innocent life or two. The smell of fresh blood stops that train of thought in it's tracks.

There's a small gathering of teenagers in a backyard a few house down. Creeping closer, I get a count. There's four of them. Two females, two males. All fairly inebriated. More than enough to sate my need. Catching a lucky break when one of the males stumbles around to the side of the house to relieve himself. I wait until he's finished, the last thing I want right now is a golden shower. I hear him zip his pants up and I pounce. Far too famished to make this first one last, I rip into his throat in a frenzy, my hunger crazed grip crushing his skull in the process. The top half of his body quickly becomes a slightly mushy mess. I drop it and run my bloodstained hands through my hair. Licking my lips I let out a quiet sigh of contentment. A bray of drunken laughter brings me to the task at hand. Where's my bag of toys when I need it. I spy a tire iron laying in the bed of one of the teens trucks. Hmm. Ok, I can work with this. I smile at the bludgeoning weapons heft in my hand as I slink into the shadows of the backyard. The remaining male and one of the females are canoodling in a hot tub next to the shed. The other female is on the screened in porch. This is splendid. Smiling and silently climb onto the porch, I approach her from behind, using the tire iron to throttle her into silence. Pulling her into the house so any unpleasant noises won't be heard, I throw her onto the kitchen floor. The tire iron smashes into her chest, sending shattered ribs into her lungs before she can draw breath to scream. Her blood pools onto the tile in a delicious way. Kneeling into the puddle, I feed from her dying body until the lacerated heart stops beating. I dispose of the tire iron for a freshly sharpened knife from the butchers block. Controlling my excitement I creep stealthily to the couple, who are in the throes of a passionate kiss in the frothing water. I ruin their beautiful moment when I thrust the knife into the back of the neck of the female. It slides through to jab the male with its dripping tip. I push her convulsing body to the side, leaping into the water with a splash. The male lets out a humorously feminine shriek and I'm forced to hold his head under the bubbling water until his struggling ceases. I pull him up, checking for the faint pulse before sinking my fangs into him. His blood jets out and I swallow as much as I can before releasing him into the reddening water. The hot tub gurgles away making hypnotic swirls of crimson. I'm captivated for an indiscernible amount of time before shaking myself alert. Time to clean up.

Dragging the bodies into the kitchen, I rig up a contraption with the gas range. I hurry out of the house, already a safe distance away when I hear the small blast of the stove as it obliterates the bodies I left in its vicinity. There. T's crossed and I's dotted. When I finally reach home, I come upon my only hang up of the night. My clothes are soaking wet with blood and water and I smell faintly of propane. I grin when the solution comes to mind. Stripping down to my bra and Cookie Monster adorned underwear, I shove my stained clothing into a trash bag and enter the house. The look on Mongrel's face is worth a thousand words as I flounce past him. As I prepare to use up all the hot water I hear his laughter echoing down the hallway. I grin and step under the spray, knowing I've avoided any possible hard feelings from my little spree.

Nothing quite like the feel of something new.

I had finally convinced Mongrel to join me in a hunt. The couple, in their late 20's, deemed themselves some sort of modern-day Mickey and Mallory. Robbed a restaurant and a couple gas stations, taking the lives of over a dozen victims in the process. I knew Mongrel wouldn't comply if the prey was less than deserving. The cops had been scouring the city for this couple for almost a month. It took the two of us less than a half hour to find the abandoned rancher they had retreated to.

I entered the dilapidated old house first, the monster in me roused and ready to feed. Mongrel trailed in after me. I could see he was having the usual doubts. We went farther in, catching the scent of the young killers. The nearness of the kill causing a predatory grin to arise on my face. I dart forward silently, entering the room where the female is sitting on a mattress facing away from me. She doesn't notice my presence until it's too late, and my hands are around her neck. She manages a scream before I tighten my grip and cut off her air supply. I'm dragging her out towards the front room when the male makes himself known. Gun in hand, he fires in my direction. I turn swiftly, using his girlfriend as a shield. She takes the bullet through her abdomen. I'm about to bemoan the waste of a good meal when his second bullet catches me in the thigh. My maddened cry is drown out by Mongrel's furious roar. He lets the shooter take off out into the front lawn and almost reach his car before thundering after him. Not wanting to miss out on a lively show, I take a few enthusiastic bites out of my own casualty before tossing her ravaged body to the ground. Limping out onto the yard, I watch in awe as Mongrel carries out a deathly dance with his victim. The final moment comes quickly as he sinks his teeth into his prey, draining him of blood and life. He discards his meal and looks up at me, mouth smeared with precious fluid. I blink at him, practically in awe."Almost didn't think ya had it in you." 
He gives me a wry smile before joining me on the porch. Kneeling, examining the bullet wound in my thigh with bloodstained hands, he comments: "It's just a flesh wound. His aim wasn't worth shit. Are you ok?" 
I nod slowly, transfixed on the blood grimed into the lines of his knuckles. My body moving of its own accord, I pull his hand up to my mouth, leisurely licking the vitae from his fingers, reveling in the taste of the blood and his flesh. He slowly rises to his feet, and in his eyes I see a fresh, new hunger.

We stare at one another for several moments. A uncertain awareness is unfurling inside of me. Is this desire? Lust? I find myself once again greeting a new feeling with receptivity, however hesitant. Breaking the lull, I take a purposeful step into Mongrel's personal bubble. Placing my hands on either side of his head, I trace my tongue along the outline of his mouth, lapping the blood from his lips. He's practically vibrating with repressed need. Pulling away about a centimeter he says in a voice so low it's almost a purr "Maddie...are you sure?" 
I bare my fangs at the superfluous nickname. "Just shut up..." 
With a growl, he grabs a fistful of my hair and our lips meet in a bruising lock. The kiss is frenzied, tongue and teeth and burning compulsion. I press myself against his assenting form, relishing the strange feeling of his body's approximation to mine. I let a hand run down his chest, plucking the buttons open on his shirt and pausing at his belt. His kisses trail down the side of my jaw, punctuated with nips and bites until he reaches the tender skin above my collarbone. He bites into my flesh with a groan as I unbuckle his belt and explore the territory below his waist. I touch the bulge in front of his pants with only the slightest hesitation. In a breath, he slams me against the porch rail, wrestling my pants off and shredding them in the process. He slides his arms around me, grasping my ass and lifting me up into the porch railing. I squirm and pull him flush against me to bite at his earlobe. His hand creeps between my legs. I'm lost in this revelation of pleasure, and let out a whimpering moan as his fingers tease me. When I press my pelvis into the rhythm of his hands movements, a deep growl issues from the depths of Mongrel's throat. He removes his fingers from between my thighs and before I can fuss he thrusts himself into me. I feel as if my whole being is deliciously burning. Lost in the sensation, I tilt my head back, closing my eyes. Mongrel's hand grasps my chin, forcing me to look at him. I catch his lip between my teeth and give it a gentle bite as his thrusting intensifies. Wrapping my legs around him I claw at his back hard enough to draw blood. The smell of it brings me spiraling into an abyss of physical feeling. I'm losing control and enjoying it. Not from murder or death but something new. This is desire. My desperate moans in Mongrel's ear send him into a frenzy. I can feel him being pushed over the edge. I dig my nails into his chest, my own cries muffled against his skin as he grips the nape of my neck, biting into it as he comes inside of me with a bellowing howl. I shiver as his tongue traces the trail of blood from my throat to my breast. We're both panting like animals as our frantic movement slows to a undulating grind. His face still in my chest, I feel his mouth turn up into a smile when I press my lips above his brow, kissing the cool skin there.

Suddenly, with a loud crack, the porch railing splinters, sending us tumbling into the front lawn. Both laughing, he wraps his arm around me when I drape across his chest. At some point, Mongrel attempts to talk. I hold my hand over his mouth and give him a gentle glare before he can try to apologize or try to condone our behavior. I only remove my hand when he rolls his eyes, signalling defeat. We lay in the grass for awhile not moving or talking. Eventually I wrestle his jacket away from him, pulling it over my shredded and stained clothes. "C'mon, we should start back. It's gonna take me longer to walk since you just like... fucked me bowlegged."
He chortles laughter, shaking his head. "You're not right in the head Maddie...um...Madelyn."
I growl and deliver a punch to his arm. "No, really?!" as we amble down the street, heading back home with sated smiles.

Can you save me? From myself? From these memories?

My range of emotions are limited and possibly as unbalanced as I am. In my capacity to care or love, I guess you could say I share those feelings towards Mongrel. That is, I would gleefully destroy any being that would have the intent to harm him. I'm all too aware of the weakness that befalls those with fondness towards people other than themselves. It's something that can be held over your head in a threatening situation. But, as I'm usually the threat rather than the threatened, I don't hold to that too much. I suppose it's a rare thing for something like me to find another being who isn't disgusted nor fearful of me. Mongrel understands why I do what I do and although he may not agree, he doesn't judge. At times he's the life preserver that keeps me afloat in the treacherous ocean of my own insanity. I'm capable...well, fairly capable of taking care of myself. My youth only goes skin deep, after all. I've spent a lot of time on my own. Usually leaving a trail of corpses in my wake. The only connection I felt would be the strictly visceral one with my victims. Then an undead angel of sorts stepped into the minefield that is my life.

Spending a night in one of my favorite manners, I had tracked a family to a cozy little campsite in the woods. I already had my main target hand picked. The troubled teenage son, Bradley. His discontented murmuring about this excursion traveled clearly to my perch on a precipice nearby. Just wait, kid. I'll give you something to bitch about. That is if I leave the boy with any parts capable of speech. He was joined by his parents and younger sister. After the inevitable roasted marshmallows and Kumbayas, Bradley retreats to his room in the camper with his Ipod and comic books. I make quick work of the family, silencing the woman and child with my Bowie knife and depleting dear Daddy's arteries. I enter the camper. Young Brad's look of shock is quickly replaced with fear as he takes in my bloodstained form and the murderous intent on my face. I'm blocking the only escape but the boisterous boy still attempts to dart past me. I deliver a blow to the base of his neck. Sending him to the brief bliss of unconsciousness.

When Brad awakes, hanging upside down from a tree, his attempts to speak, scream...possibly even compose a sonnet...are halted by my swift removal of his flapping tongue. I squeeze the small organ out over my open mouth, relishing the taste of his blood. The growing stain of urine creeping up his jeans make me wrinkle my nose. "A little old to not be potty trained, aren't ya boy?" I wave my Bowie knife in front of him, still sticky with his family's blood, before opening up an artery in his leg. The crimson fluid sheets down his body in a beautiful waterfall. I'm lapping up the blood when I feel an all too familiar evocation in my head. I drop my knife and clutch at the sides of my head, whimpering almost inaudibly. "Nooo. I'm giving you what you want! Leave me alone..." Like the fate of my prey, my own pleading is for naught. I find an ax near the camper and attempt to hack away at the shadows that are threatening to eradicate my being. The kid is laughing at me from his suspension in the tree and I take his mocking head off. I'm in the process of beating his body like a macabre pinata with the blunt side of the ax when what I perceive as a menacing figure steps into my decimated playground.

The tentatively approaching figure is male, that's all I take in before I leap at him with a lunatic battle cry. I register the slightest surprise in my addled mindset that my attacks are being thwarted with the same inhuman strength as I administer. My assailant sets eyes on my kill and with a roar, delivers a herculean blow that sends me flying clear across the campsite. I manage to gather my wits enough to land on my feet, panting, as I glare through the veil of my blood soaked hair at the threat before me. I launch into another attack and he returns in kind. He's quick, managing to dodge the barrage of car parts I fling at him and my gnashing teeth as I strike like a rabid dog. I feel the hot tug of his claws catching my skin several times but the sight of my own blood just incites me more. His feral fighting a set match to my twisted aggression. The wrecked campsite becomes utterly obliterated by our savage combat. I howl in frustration, baring my teeth as he manages to subdue me, pinning me to the ground despite my struggles. I see a change in his face as he glimpses the blood pouring from one of the wounds he inflicted on me. The battle lust is replaced by an bestial look of hunger as he bites into my torn flesh with a growl. Recognition breaks into my already crippled psyche as I feel myself freeze with fear. I'm seeing him, that beast I've killed a thousand times but can never evade. Nononononono LET ME OUT! I let loose with a harrowing wail, feeling the fight run out of me like snow melting on warm pavement. The beast releases me. What? What's going on?? I backpedal out from under him, dragging myself through the dirt. Pulling my knees to my chest and holding my hands protectively over my head I whimper "Why are you doing this to me!?" At his silence, I risk a glance upwards into his eyes. Who is this? The rage and hunger is gone from his blood splattered face. Replaced with a look of...concern? And guilt? No. No. It's just a trick! I sob aloud and rake my hands over my face, desperately trying to put my thoughts in a cognitive order. Why can't the pieces just go back where they should be?! I feel a cautious hand on my shoulder and pull away in distress. "I'm not going to hurt you." His voice is soft, despite the situation.
"Please...please don't touch me! I...I..can't..." I trail off pitifully, unable to force the necessary words out of my jumbled brain. I can only imagine what my expression shows as I fight this inner battle.

Shutting my eyes tightly I grit my teeth and try to fight my way out of the torrential storm brewing in my head. I'm afraid to look in this stranger's face again. Afraid the compassion I saw really was a trick. I feel a warning tickle at the nape of my neck. His muttered curse concurs what I'm sensing. The sun is coming up. Let it. I'm too tired to fight my way out this time. I'm sure I've been given up as a lost cause. Not even worth fighting with anymore. I'm roused out of my bitter reverie by strong hands lifting me to my feet. Eye to eye, he gives me a simple command. "Dig." Casting me towards the hole under one of the trees. I start digging frantically, keeping my thoughts on the simple task with every ounce of my floundering sanity. He drops gracefully into the hole next to me, pulling one of the cars doors I previously heaved at him over our makeshift sanctuary. I cringe into myself, still fighting for control. Sneaking glances at my unexpected savior, I try to interpret his scheme. Why did he save me? DID he save me? Is this all one big trick?! Is this really happening?!! I've got to get out of my head. I'VE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE. The feeling of inescapable peril is bubbling up inside of me. I tense with anxiety, ready to ambush him and run when he speaks to me again
"What's your name?" His calming voice feels like a rescue rope, emancipating me from this quicksand-like pull of delirium inside my head.
My answering mutter is steadier than I could hope for. "...Madelyn." 
His relief displays as a ghost of a smile. "Good. Good. I'm Mongrel. Keep talking to me, Madelyn." 
Talking? Oh..oh. I shake my head slowly, trying to keep grasp on that rescue rope. Looking into Mongrel's eyes once more I open my mouth, not knowing what will come out until I hear my own voice. "My parents raised dogs. All different types. The mongrels were my favorite. They were always the most loyal.." I chatter on and on, the amusement on Mongrel's face helping to clear the murkiness in my mind. What is this feeling? Safe. I feel...safe.

After our shared ordeal, I ended up following Mongrel to Baltimore. It wasn't even a conscious decision. I began seeking out his company for the brief alleviation of insanity. His presence soothed me like a balm. Eventually my tailing around led to something mutual. Something I wasn't even aware I could feel anymore. Friendship. I found myself...caring. Being grateful for the quelling of my haunts while subsequently attempting to aid him in the conflict against his own demons. It's a camaraderie that seems to be for the sheer amusement of the gods themselves. Or maybe it's just two fucked up pieces of fate's ultimate puzzle.

Cursed for caring, the visage you're wearing is tearing it's own eyes out and taking a good long look at itself.

It's coming. Always does. I was watching a particularly intriguing fissure in the plaster of the ceiling when everything starting to haze around the edges. Then. CRACK. I'm outside. The sun is glaringly bright against the snow. I look down and my pale legs are calf deep in the slush. I glance at my hands quizzically and feel the sharp points of my fangs. How am I not like...on fire? Someone is approaching. I swing around, teeth bared against the oncoming threat? She's no threat. Tall, and athletically built. Her non-descript brown hair frames a pleasantly round face. Green eyes peer from under a fringe of bangs. It's...me. Alive. I straighten from my predatory crouch. She smiles at me. I. I smile at me. The smile turns sardonic. "No matter who you kill. What you do. You can't let go of me. I still manage to dodge around the monster that has a hold over you." The tone of her voice is taunting. Almost mocking.
"Let go of YOU?! You won't let go of ME! You're nothing but a little splinter of oak in a big wood chipper. You don't have control. The MONSTER doesn't have control. It's me. ALL ME." I lose my temper and try to pounce on this taunting specter. Shut her up. Someone is holding me back. I twist around in the strong grip and pause. Dad? 
"Maddie. You can't. She's keeps you tethered." 
And I feel her in me. She wants...I want...nothing more than to turn myself over to my father's comforting embrace. The thought that he can still look at me, put his hands on me, and not cringe away from what I've become. Not wrinkle his nose at the blood on my breath. No! This is all a trick! A distraction from the enemy. Blood lust returns and I pull away, cracking my elbow back into the face of this false begetter. I launch at the living, breathing effigy of myself. Instead of hitting flesh I stumble, face first into the snow. I sputter out the mouthful of melting water. Now she's in front of me, smirking. I leap up and sink my fingers into her...my...HER flesh. Trying to rip and tear. It's like trying to fight smoke. No matter where I attack, she's one step ahead of me. Of course she is. She's me. "There's no point. You can't destroy something that's so deeply a part of your being." I don't know which one of us is talking, now. I plop down and sink into the snow. Maybe if I sit here long enough I'll freeze. Freeze everything inside me. My dad's voice echoing, far away. Or is it? Is it shouting? Is it dad? No.
"Madelyn! Snap out of it! For the love of...no! Back off!" 
Growling? A scuffle? Someones shaking me hard enough to make my brain rattle. Reality is stirring.

Waking up. Not from sleep, but from...what? Gah. My head feels fuzzy. Christ, I can only guess what that means. Looking around the room I notice some telltale signs. Couple of holes in the wall, one of the fancy tables reduced to some splinters. The three Ventrue are at the farthest end of the room watching me warily. I finally turn my eyes to Mongrel. He looks visibly stressed, and there's a hell of a shiner marring his right eye. Fuck. Before I can even look properly ashamed he waves a dismissing hand. "S'fine, it'll heal. Are you...ok?"
I shake my head and shrug, reflexively nibbling the skin around my nails. Tastes like blood. Fuck fuck fuck! I can't remember the last time I had an episode like this in front of anyone. I usually have enough warning to make myself sparse. For Mongrel's sake and for the sake of not exposing my blatant insanity to everyone in the vicinity. "I'm as ok as I can be right now." That seems good enough for the guys. They relax as much as an uppity Ventrue can relax. Occasionally shooting Mongrel and I wary looks. I wonder if our companionship sets them on edge more than anything. I can't put enough effort to suitably give a shit. I still feel shaken up and wrong. It doesn't take a genius to decode what some of these hallucinations, waking dreams-whatever they are, mean. I see the strain I'm putting on my already harrowed Gangrel friend and try to climb out of my own thoughts.

Sitting on the floor I lean back and rest my weary, fucked up cranium against Mongrel's leg. Simply seeking the comfort of someone who doesn't judge the fact that I need to tear people apart to keep my head on straight, or the fact that honestly there is no way for my head to ever be straight. Simultaneously trying to offer whatever deficient assuagement I can. I can only wonder how long before someone other than me cracks under the pressure. We've got to get out of here.