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.