Surrender to find serenity. Never fret why the dead don't fly. Now venture into obscurity. Severing sanity.

February of 1954.

I wake up with a gasp. The room I'm in is dimly lit by the muted sunlight through my curtains. I'm home? What was...what was I dreaming about? My pillow is damp with tears, the covers twisted around my body in a constricting way that flickers a memory. Of a dream? No, a nightmare. It comes back to me. Oh, god that was such a nightmare. That monstrous creature that held me captive, the heinous things he did to my family and I. The very thought of it has me wrestling the blankets off before flinging myself out of bed. I adjust my pajamas as I exit my bedroom and head downstairs with the slightest bit of trepidation. I peek around the corner to the kitchen. Dads sitting at the kitchen counter with a glass of orange juice in front of him. Mom is at the stove, fixing breakfast. She glances up at me. "Good morning, sweetheart. Why are you sneaking around? Breakfast'll be ready soon." 
The sound of her voice sets a deep reassurance in me. I catch her off guard when I dash across the linoleum and wrap my arms around her in a bear hug. "Oh, mommy. I'm so glad to see you. I had such an awful dream!" She returns the embrace, placing a warm kiss on my cheek.
Dad pats the stool next to him. "Why don't you tell us about it, Maddie? Maybe it will help." 
I take the spot next to him, sneaking a gulp from his glass before giving a brief, censored explanation of my nightmare. "It was the most horrible..." I shudder. "I just want to forget about it." 
Dad messes up my hair and gives me a concerned look. "Maybe you should nix those horror flicks you always watch." 
"Yeah." I reply. "Or, stop eating sugar before bed." My sister walks into the room with Marisa in her arms and husband in tow. I grin at them, relieved to see them, too. I hold my arms out as my sister dutifully deposits Marisa in my lap. My niece starts babbling in a constant stream and I gaze around the room, reveling in the comforting family scene.

Mom deposits plates in front of everyone. I look down at my own. My brow furrows. It's covered in blood. Thick, spongy clots of it. Marisa giggles in my lap, sounding nothing like the sweet laughter of a child. Her hand reaches out and splashes down on the plate. Her hand! Oh, my god! My niece is now a small, animated corpse. I let out a small yelp and she drops off my lap. I leap from the stool and see my other family members have transformed into similar rotting creatures. The room is thick with the smell of decay. Backing up into the corner, I flinch as they all point accusatory fingers at me. "Your fault! This was all your fault, Maddie!" 
"We're dead because of you!" 
"You deserve everything you get!!" 
They converge on me. Dead hands tearing at my hair. I'm screaming. Screaming as their teeth gnaw on me. Screaming as the room grows dark..

I'm still screaming as the illusion fades, depositing me back into the living nightmare. The beast that abducted me four months ago is feeding from one of the multiple wounds he inflicted on me. I unsuccessfully try to struggle my way out from under him and off the filthy mattress. He extracts his fangs from my flesh, hissing angrily in my face. Foul saliva mixed with my own blood drips from his mouth. I can't. Can't stop screaming. Can't stop until he clutches my throat with inhuman strength. I gasp in one small puff of air before he tightens his grip, blocking my windpipe completely. I claw at the hand holding my throat, desperate to breathe. With his free hand, the beast catches one of mine, bending the fingers back forcibly until they snap. The pain, combined with the lack of air causes black spots to appear before my eyes. I stop struggling. I can end this. I'll just let go. Yes. I can die. Let me die. Consciousness starts to fade. I surrender.

Then, the hand abruptly releases it's grip. Stale air surges into my lungs as I cough and gasp, senses returning in a painful rush. "Nooo. Why won't you...just....let me die?" I gasp out through my swollen throat.
The hand that previously almost choked the life out of me gently touches my face. I'm too weak to try to pull away. "Madelyn. Dear, little monster of mine. I'll never let you go. Shh...you'll be with me forever.." He pulls me into a rough embrace. Instead of feeling the usual terror and disgust, I'm at ease. Almost...comforted. Despite the blood caked on his mouth, I listen to his voice, enraptured. "Mine, forever. My beautiful, monster. I'll hurt you and hurt you and won't ever let you go." The words arouse no panic in me. I just nod, and rest my forehead against his shoulder. My broken fingers still throb, my throat is on fire. Still, I just listen. Patting my back with one hand, he reaches under the bed for something. I feel no fear as I watch him pull on a crudely fashioned glove. The fingers of the glove are tipped with curved, pointed metal nails. He continues rubbing my back, now with the gloved hand. He pauses at the nape of my neck. In one long, unyielding movement, he digs the nails into my skin. Dragging the small blades down my back, parting the flesh. It's agonizing. The blood pours down my flesh, soaking into the mattress under me. I don't react to the pain, but stare into the pleased madness of my captor's face. He pulls the nails from my skin, grasping the back of my head with the glove. It's sticky with my blood. He presses my face to his own and I comply when he thrusts his tongue past my lips. The inside of his mouth tastes sour but I don't spit in distaste when the rotten kiss is broken. I just lean into him. Dazed and smiling lucidly as he whispers sordid threats in my ear. Blood continues to flow from the wounds on my back, my neck...so many other places. Pain courses throughout. No matter. I'm his docile kitten. I'm his, forever. He'll take care of me. Ravage me. Love me. Cut me. Keep me alive. Always. Always.

My disillusioned mind is wasting away. Until I break, until I bend. Until I fall back on my faith again.

That all too familiar laugh rings in my ears. The pages of my book are suddenly intelligible as my hands start to shake. Why? Why, now? Rising from the couch, I clutch at my head. It's too late. The lines of reality are blurring. Gotta...gotta get out of here. Run somewhere. Go go, I've gotta goooo. I take a few lurching steps before collapsing in the kitchen. I hit my head on the stove and laugh. Why do we even have a stove? Hehehehehe. The dead don't cook! My laughter tapers off into a whine. I hear him coming. No! I can run! I clamor to my feet again, darting towards the back of the house. I feel his hand grazing the back of my neck before I barrel through the patio door. Glass shatters and my feet tangle in each other, spilling me into the yard. I cover my face with bloody hands. If I can't see you you can't see me if I can't see you you can't see me if I can't see you you can't see me if I can't see you you can't see me. 
"I see you, monster. Cut up and frightened...just how I've always loved you."
I lower my hands and look into the crazed eyes of my maker. Again. "Why? How many times do I have to kill you?" My voice wavers pathetically despite my attempt to sound brave. He laughs that sick laugh.
"Maybe you should stop trying to kill me and kill what's really destroying you. Hmm?" Destroying? Destroying? "Weakness, my monster. You're weak. This is not how I raised you." I squeeze my eyes shut and try to shake my way out of this delusion. My maker growls. "You know I HATE when you try to ignore me!" I'm pulled roughly to my feet, his nails slashing across my face before he turns me to face the woods. "Look, monster! LOOK! This is what is destroying you!" Familiar Kindred face me in a semi circle. Miss Lucy. Pyotr. Fate. Mason. Marcus. Other faces. Those I consider allies. Friends even. "FRIENDS?!" He roars in my ear. Pointing to each in turn. "Weakness! Weakness! Weakness!" Predictably, Mongrel steps forward through the circle. My makers voice is full of anger as he points in Mongrel's direction. "WEAKNESS. He is the epitome of what will destroy you." His hard grasp turns gentle as he pets my hair. I feel the light trickle of blood down my jaw. "Don't you see, monster? They are the only reason this hurts you. HE is the only reason this causes you pain." Mongrel is trying to talk to me. His lips are moving, I can't hear him. "End your own pain. Kill him. Kill them all. You don't need to feel..." His words turn into visions. Me, covered in gore. The bodies of my friends at my feet. I'm smiling as Mongrel begs for his life in front of me. Snuff him out. Kill him.."Kill him, monster."

A revelation washes over me and the hallucination dissipates. "No." I wrench myself out the vampires grasp. Straightening my spine, raising my eyes to his. "Never. I will never. You...you are the weakness." I let out a shaky laugh. "I see it! I'm always afraid. Of you. Of your memory. Of what you make me do. Of what I feel..." I look back at the apparitions of my Kin. "YOU'RE the one who is afraid. For fifty years, it was just you and I in here. Even dead. You still ran the show, didn't you? Now...it's not just you. I'm stronger than you ever planned me to be." The apparitions fade away. All but Mongrel.
When I turn back to my maker, he almost looks disappointed. But..there's still that shine in his eyes. He caresses my face with a filthy hand. I don't flinch away. "Oh, my monster. You think you're strong." He laughs his laugh. "You'll never be rid of me, Madelyn."

"Maddie? What's going on? Are you...Maddie, your cheek." I can hear Mongrel's voice over my makers cackling. I turn slowly to face him as he approaches. On alert, not trusting the mad vampire behind me. "Mongrel, it's not safe. Why are you always here when it's not safe? He wants me to hurt you. I won't. I'm strong...aren't I?" I laugh forlornly.
"I'm here because it's my job to keep you safe. Yes, you are. Very very strong, Maddie. I'm so proud of you." He gives me a reassuring smile.
I shoot a fearful glance over my shoulder at the scornful chuckle of my maker. "Not as proud as I am, monster." He rasps. I whimper under my breath. Please. Please please let me go. 
Mongrel's voice reaches me through my own thoughts. "You can fight it. You can fight him." 
I can't. Can't. Not without you. I drop into my protective crouch. "But...he's so deep inside here." I point to my head. "And you're so far away. I can't have you near when he's in me." He's always in me. 
Mongrel rushes to my side in a instant, wrapping me in his strong arms. "I know there's still a part of you that's human, that's entirely Madelyn. I know she's still in there, I've seen her. You're safe, love." 
I grab the lapels of his jacket, confused. He feels like he's here. Is this just to torture me? "But..he says.." I want to look, make sure my maker isn't coming closer. I can't. I bury my face in his chest.
"He's not real, Maddie. He can't hurt you anymore. I'm here. Don't be scared."  
"I AM scared. I'm scared of him. Of myself. Mongrel...I'm scared of you." 
He strokes my hair. I sigh quietly, wanting this to be real. He pulls away enough to look in my eyes. Puzzled, he responds. "Why are you scared of me, love?" 
That word. My chest feels just as turmoiled as my brain. "I'm scared of what...how..how you make me feel. He says it's weakness. It is. Isn't it? Is it? I don't know.." I look away. Embarrassed by the scrutinizing look this apparition is giving me. "I wish you were here. No. That's not fair. I don't! But...you save me." 
The cackling voice echoes faintly. "There is no saving you...weak..weak little monster..."

Mongrel's voice reaches me again through my makers. "I like to think of it as a strength." I feel his cool lips on my forehead before he picks me up, heading towards the house. "Shh shh, I'm here. I'm here. You're safe." 
I'm shaking slightly as I frantically survey the yard for that haunting specter. "He's gone!" I manage a small smile. "You made him go. Even when you're not real..." My brow furrows in confusion. He couldn't of given up that easily. Where's the catch? "How are you doing this?" He sets me down on the couch, inspecting the wound on my cheek and various other cuts acquired from smashing through the patio door. I feel a faint panic as he disappears into the bathroom. Oh, no. Oh, no. Is it going to get bad again? I close my eyes, reopening them only when I hear his voice. 
"Doing what, deary?" He's dabbing the blood off my face with a moist washcloth. 
I exhale. "Doing...being so...real. I thought.." It's almost like he's really with me. I give him a sheepish look. "Doesn't matter. I'll take what I can get at this point." I touch his face. His skin is so soft..."Mongrel...I.." Chewing my lip as I pause. Looking up at him, my face sincere, almost human. Don't want to break this. Careful, Maddie. Don't wanna ruin the illusion. I say in a quiet voice. "...I love you..." 
Eyes wide, he stops and just stares at me. His face turning several different shades of pink. After a beat, he laughs awkwardly and drops his gaze to the floor, "...ditto...I'm sorry I left you alone, Maddie. I'll try to not stay away so long." With a cough, he feigns clearing his throat "Are you feeling better?"

Better. Better? Tilting my head to the side curiously. "I'm...ok." I blink a couple of times, awareness rolling in like a wave. I touch the wound on my check, glance back at the glass and splinters of wood where the back door used to be. "..oh." I look back at Mongrel. "Oooh." Oh. He came back. He's been here...I've been talking to him the whole time. "You're um...hey. I.." I make an indecipherable sound and pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. 
"Ah, welcome back." He says with a chuckle, petting my hair. 
My voice comes out muffled as I hide my face in the pillow. "I bled and broke things again, didn't I?" Is he mad? This must of been a hell of a scene to come home to. Oh Christ..
"Meh, nothing out of the ordinary. 'Least I didn't come home to a mound of bodies. I'd say that's an improvement." The uncharacteristically cheerful tone of his voice makes me look up. A silly grin plastered on his face, "I've missed you." 
I return his smile but quickly look away. "I missed you too. Heh." Way to understate myself. "I should...clean up." I will my body to move and am denied. 
Noticing my distinct lack of getting up, he says with a smirk, "Need help?" He chuckles after a moment. "Hah, sorry. I've been locked in an underground silo with a bunch of idiots for the past couple days. I'm... eh... I'll be in my room if you need anything." 
I make an odd noise and hop up from the couch abruptly. Taking a few steps to the kitchen, I find myself halted again. "Mongrel." Peering over my shoulder to confirm I have his attention. I tense, my lack of judgement willing me to run. C'mon Mad. Man up. Not even five days ago you faced off against a mecha Lasombra  surrounded by fire and a gazillion shadow arms. You've been tortured in every way imaginable. This is a breeze. This is Mongrel. MY mongrel. With a deep breath, my words come out in a rush. "I do love you. I don't know how it's even...possible. Or if it's even worth anything coming from, well. Coming from me." I sigh. "I do, though." 

I duck into the kitchen closet before my mouth says anything else. I shuffle around noisily, pretending to look for the broom. My distractionary methods are interrupted when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn to face Mongrel as he takes both my hands in his own. "Maddie. Maddie... I love you too." He looks into my eyes and brushes stray strands of pink behind my ear, staring at me like he's waiting for something...Wait. He? Loves? Me? How...Conflicted emotions swarm my brain. I feel giddy. Scared. Ecstatic. Sad. Sad for him.. "Now go take a nice bath and get -yourself- cleaned up. I'll take care of the glass." 
I keep staring with a half smile on my face. "I don't know whether to feel sorry for you or to ki....um. Yeah. A bath." Once again...I'm reluctant to move. 
In a swift movement he leans forward and plants his lips on mine, pulling away just as quickly. Turning red. "..sorry. Err...silo. Underground. Idiots. Heh." 
I grin and absently rub my own cheeks. "Yes. Silo. And...idiots. And baths." My face turns serious and I step forward into Mongrel's proximity. Linking my hands around his neck, I ease into another kiss. Taking my time. After a moment I pull away and give him a gentle smile. Heh. Hehe. This makes me recall something. "Remind me to tell you about a dream I had...later." I laugh at my own inside joke. 
Looking somewhat dazed, Mongrel smiles a big, goofy smile. Appearing to mentally shake it off, he playfully spins me around, aimed me at the stairs with a nudge. "Please do. For now,  go bathe." He takes the broom and steps through the kitchen door onto the patio. 
I head up the stairs, mumbling to myself. "Bath...steamy showerbath...yeah. Clean..." I reach the top of the stairs, grinning. Before I can stop myself, I emit a squeak of a girly giggle. I cover the treacherous sound with a forced cough and duck into the bathroom, slamming the door. OH GOD I DID NOT JUST...

Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking.

I'm pacing the living room for the 2,543 time. When I notice how threadbare the carpet is getting I halt, dropping down cross legged with a sigh. Now I can add stir crazy to the already gargantuan list of crazies I'm afflicted with. Biting my nails idly, I rack my brain trying to dig up an idea entertaining enough to keep my mind off of all the bureaucratic crap going on. And hopefully something to distract me from being...lonely. I pull Mongrel's responding note from my pocket, reading it over for the thousandth time. I'm alright. You know where I am. I chose my deputy because he seemed trustworthy even if he is wet behind the ears.... I miss you. My face softens into an expression rarely seen by my fellow Kindred. I hop back to my feet. Fuck. I've got to go do something. I ate earlier, so hunting is unnecessary. I walk into my bedroom, rummaging under the bed, through the closet. My hands pause on soft leather and grimy rubber wheels. My eye are alight with enthusiasm as I pull out a pair of well worn quad skates. I didn't even realize I still HAD these! I bought the skates sometime in the early nineties, surprising myself by reawakening a hobby from my mortal years. I laugh aloud. Wouldn't the other Kin be just flabbergasted at the sight of murderous Maddie on wheels?! I sling the skates over my shoulder and grab my Ipod before heading out the door. Waving to the crows, I head towards the nearest park.

"If you say run, I'll run with you...If you say hide, we'll hide." Singing aloud, I skate laps around the empty race track. Reaching speeds that would of made human legs burn like fire. Pink hair whipping behind me in a fan, dopey smile plastered on my face...I look every bit the seventeen year old, despite my sixty plus years. "If you should fall, into my arms. And tremble like a FLOOOOWER!" I belt out a high note, despite the awareness of another being nearby. I slow myself to a less supernaturally strong pace at the sound of a different set of wheels. A mohawked mortal skims up next to me on a skateboard with a grin. I pull the headphones out of my ears, David Bowie gives way to Queen, crooning out uninterrupted into the still night.
"Hey. I didn't know anyone else skated around this place at night." The streetlights glint off the hoop in his bottom lip. The boy is maybe a year or two older than I appear to be.
"Nice board." I say, glancing at his feet.
"Thanks. I'm Josh, by the way." We both halt our momentum to shake hands.
"I'm Madelyn." 
I take a peek in his thoughts. Wow...she's hot...and a skater punk...wonder if she's single. I resist rolling my eyes. Boys. 
We make small talk, most of which entails him slipping little compliments in and trying to discern things about me. He's not awful, for a breather. Kinda cute. Makes me glad I already ate so I can spare this one. "So, how long have you been skating, Madelyn?" 
"Oh, about fifty years off and on." I respond without thinking. His puzzled look alerts me to my slip. Oops. I laugh it off. "Sometimes it feels like it's been that long. Y'know what I mean?" 
He chuckles in assent. "If you've been doing it that long, surely you won't turn down a test of speed? You wanna race?" 
Jeez. Is this really a part of mortal flirting? Oh well, I have always been competitive. "Sure, Josh. How about five laps around the track? Winner takes all!" We both take to the track.
"On my count.." He rolls his board back and forth in anticipation. I lean into my toe stops, bending low. "Three...two...GO!" I run on the rubber stops for a few paces before putting the wheels to the pavement. Keeping my speed normal, but still ahead of Josh enough to turn my head and smirk back at his playful smile. I keep low, leaning into the turns and crossing over with ease. The wind picks up as I pull a bit further ahead of him. The comforting noise of bearings rolling along starts to fade as I pick up the sound of Josh's juicy heart beating with adrenaline. Him panting with exertion. The clean scent of his skin, dampened just so with sweat. I'm licking my lips as I deeply inhale the smell of his blood rushing so teasingly through those flimsy veins and arteries. Executing a quick 180, I skate backwards for a spell before popping back up on my toes in a stop. Josh fails to slow enough, and collides with me. I'm unmoved as he falls on his ass, his skateboard coming to a stop at my feet.

All signs of the innocent teenager are gone as I stare down at him with hunger. "Heh...ow. Thanks for the wipe out..." He trails off, looking perplexed as I bend down and grab his board, lifting it over my head. "...what...the...OH SHIT!" 
I bring the board down on his face, cracking his jaw in two and splattering the concrete with blood. I'm laughing as I smash the skateboard down over and over, and soon it bounces off the ground under what used to be a cute, mohawked little head. I lift his body with one hand, drinking the blood that seeps from the ragged stump above his shoulders before tossing him into the grass. I roll back and forth in a tight circle, the wheels of my skates making red trails around the puddle of blood. ...fuck. I lament my lack of self control. Damn it. I'm so fucking hopeless! I snap Josh's stained skateboard over my knee with a growl and heave the pieces away. My wheels start to stick and I tumble into the boy's body. Taking my skates off, I look at the wheels. They're gummed with blood. "Great. GREAT! NOW I NEED NEW FUCKING BEARINGS!" I slam the skate down on Josh's still form. I make a quick clean up of the scene, muttering angrily to myself the whole time. Once I reach home again, I point an accusatory finger at the black feathered birds on the porch. "DON'T YOU FUCKING JUDGE ME!" I pause in the doorway, turning around with a ashamed look on my face. "Sorry, guys. I didn't mean to yell at you." I pull something out of the hall closet. Sprinkling sunflower seeds on the porch from the bag I bought earlier in the week, I look sadly at Mongrel's birds. "...tell him I miss him, too." I close the front door, dropping my skates and falling onto the couch. Starting up my Ipod again, I lay my arm over my eyes. Humming along with the music while I'll mentally drift away for the rest of the night.

Lying all alone and restless, unable to lose this image. Sleepless, unable to focus on anything but your surrender.

The ground is littered with corpses. My corpses. I smile. It's a beautiful panoramic view of severed limbs and shattered skulls leaking brain matter and blood into the forest ground. I leisurely stroll through the carnage, glancing at the moon lit faces and breathing in the heady reek of death. The hair on the back of my neck seems to rise as I look up at the lightning forking across the sky. A thick roll of thunder follows. Still scanning the sky, I feel a drop of something hit the underside of my chin. I rub at the spot and look at my hand in curiosity. It's blood. There's another clap of thunder and the flash of lightning illuminates the scene. Small drops of ruby liquid are seeping from the ground into the air. The soil is weeping blood into the heavens. I hold my hands out in front of me, grinning at the tickle of moisture on my palms. Soon I'm spinning and dancing in this reverse rain of blood. My childish giggling competing with the crashes of thunder.

Strong hands grip my waist from behind. I recognize the touch and continue my dance, my body urging Mongrel to join in my cavorting. We move together to the sound of thunder, the pattering of bloody rain drops, the wind through the trees. I feel Mongrel's fingers hook under the bottom of my shirt and obligingly lift my arms as he peels the blood soaked fabric from my torso. His nails lengthen as he runs his hands back down my body. His claws trace circles along my stomach. I ponder how easily those claws can rip and tear, turning innards to outtards in mere seconds. As if reading my thoughts, he increases pressure. Just enough to bring thin lines of blood to the surface, lightly coating his claws. I lean my head back against his chest with a small whimper of pleasure. I watch as he uses my vitae to paint a rough sketch of a crow onto my flesh. I twist around in his grasp to face him. He licks his claws clean tantalizingly as he stares into my eyes. I try to grab at his hand for a taste, but he playfully pulls away, smirking with blood on his lips. I bare my teeth and snag a handful of his shirt, bringing his face to mine. Tasting myself in his kiss, I bite his bottom lip, intermingling our blood. "Quite the animal, aren't you Maddie? I thought I was the Gangrel here." He says with a smile.
"I'll show you an animal..." I pounce on him, knocking him backwards into the dirt. Settling on top of him, I shoot him a wicked smile. "Now you're at Maddie's mercy." 
His eyes follow me as I lower my head and slowly bite each button off his shirt, exposing his bare skin underneath. I run my fingers through the soft hair above his waistline. Grinning, I move further down his prone figure, unbuckling his belt and using my teeth to open his pants and slide the zipper down. He moans deep in his throat when I trace my tongue up his chest and gently bite each of his nipples. I resume my straddle, moving my hips against him when I feel his hardness pressing on me through my jeans. His hand darts up to seize my throat in a firm grip, squeezing softly. His voice is a growl. "Take...your fucking...pants off. Now." 
I take his hand from my neck, giving it a nibble as I rise to my feet. "Yes sir, Mr Sheriff, sir."
Mongrel sits up, jerking the jeans down before I even undo them. "You're taking too long." He pulls me into his lap, assaulting my mouth with his in another lascivious kiss. I snake my legs around him, embracing him between my thighs and sink my fingertips into the skin of his back. Grabbing a fist full of my hair, he tilts my head back. He plunges his fangs deep into my neck while his other hand slips between us, adjusting himself before...

Tinny music permeates the room.

Henry Mancini's Baby Elephant Walk.

"...the..fuck?"

The sun is down. My cell phone is singing at me. I fully immerse myself in the real world, shaking off the dregs of the strange but pleasant dream. Glancing at the screen, I see: Magnus Calling. Seriously? Cock blocked by a fucking Gangrel?! Are you fucking kidding me!!? I open the phone and shriek wordlessly into the speaker before heaving it against the wall. "God damn deputy dip shit! That was actually a GOOD dream!" I lay eyes on my shattered cell phone laying on the carpet. "Fuck! Now I need a new phone!" Pouting in vain, I gather the pieces and dump them in the trash on my way out. Roosting on the porch rail are a handful of crows, watching me with keen awareness. Overprotective...cossetting...I shake my head. "Don't look at me like that! I'm just going out to get a new phone! And maybe dinner.." The crows continue to stare. Rolling my eyes partly at them, mostly at myself, I pull a pad and pen from my pocket and scribble a note to Mongrel. Your new deputy SUCKS. Your crows are nosy. I broke my phone. Come home soon? I tie the note to the closest crow's leg and shoo it away. The rest of the flock take wing and fly above me as I stride down the street. Thoughts of cell phones and winged busybodies drift off as I mull over my dream. The first non-nightmare in a long time. Mad's trivial little secrets. I think with a smirk. Paging Dr. Freud. Turns out my emotions aren't as depthless as everyone perceives. I shove my hands in my pockets and lower my face. Good thing I lack the ability to blush..

You're killing off the shadows. You bury them all the same side down. Now they keep calling out your name.

"This! This is why I don't get involved with Camarilla political...bullshit!" I growl under my breath as I strip off my sooty, reeking clothes. Flopping face down on the bed, I sigh into the comforter and rub my temples with my knuckles. All but the most tedious and well known voices have been silenced. Not like I had much time to bask in the pleasant, if a little disconcerting, silence. While I'm normally chomping at the bit to be in the front lines for some bloodshed, tonight's assault just seemed fruitless.

With flames flickering, and Tybalt's shroud obscuring views for all but the most keen eyed in our cavalry, I couldn't of been the only one with misgivings over this blood hunt. Not even for the obvious reasons, my own and the other's attacks being brushed aside as easily as a friendly pat on the back. Surely, if Tybalt was such a threat...wouldn't we all be dead? At the least, I considered the Prince of Las Vegas an ally-by-association. I didn't even need to look at Mongrel's aura to know how conflicted this situation was making him. My temper flared as my gaze settled on Pyotr through the gloom and flurry of fists. This is his doing. I'd probably die trying but if any of this leads to my Mongrel getting hurt for his loyalty...I cut the seething train of thought off with a quick glance at E. Attention focused on the battle, my wayward reasoning is unnoticed by the Nosferatu. It all ended just as abruptly as it began. Pyotr taking off, recuperating. Tybalt's words echoing in our ears "Hand over the Regent...I don't want to kill any of you." For what it's worth, I believe you. Too bad the word of a permanently addled Malkavian doesn't hold any weight.

Then, to my discontent, there was still the matter of the Elders to appease. With plenty going on in my own head, I figured it would be easy enough to give the truly commendable gift of my silence to these formidable Kindred. A gift wasted as the Elders were reported to have taken off. I'm indifferent until later in the night when the Tremere all scatter like farts are fire and their asses are catching. Then I hear the Tzimisce Elders have abducted Lucy Talbot. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Who's to blame for this shit?" Miss Lucy is one of the few Kindred to show this pink haired lunatic compassion. I am not pleased at all. I hear murmuring from other Kindred. "Crovax..." Why am I NOT surprised this leads back to him? Should'a peeled him like a grapefruit when he first called me Maddie...The urge to eviscerate someone is reaching a fever pitch and it takes every once of self control to remove myself from Elysium. Remembering I promised to behave and remembering I'm...grounded...I grit my teeth at the thought and head back to the haven. My attempts to prematurely use Celerity do nothing but irk me more and remind me of the impending danger my teacher is in.

Now, partially undressed and muttering grimly to myself, I hop off the bed. Grounded or not. I need to take someone apart. Grabbing a lacy sundress off the floor, I head back out, pausing only to grab a butcher knife from my nightstand and slip it into my boot. I take to the streets of Baltimore. When the inevitable foolish mortal invites me back to his place, it's not the young man's terrified visage I see as I cut and fillet essential chunks of flesh, but some familiar faces of Kindred currently occupying my thoughts.

Tattered and torn. Something aches. Tattered and torn. Bad things slither.

May 5, 1954

The florescent light on the ceiling buzzed in a bothersome way. In reality, that place I didn't want to be, it was the least of my problems. Strung up against the cold brick wall, I was savoring the time alone. Despite the numbness in my hands, the ache from hanging in a prone position for hours, the blood that still dripped from between thighs that were already tacky with the fluid...the sharp paroxysms of pain coming from my...oh god. Oh god please. I clench my eyes shut, trying to stay in the better place. My body tenses, wanting so badly to curl into a ball. The movement sends stabbing agony deep inside me. How do tears still manage to creep from closed eyes?

A few hours later. He's coming. I don't even bother trying to fight the tremors that course through me. Like Pavlov's dogs. Instead of a bell it's that oncoming feeling of terror when the beast approaches. Instead of a treat I get more pain that I thought imaginable. When the door opens, the first thing I see is that smile. Always a smile. Sometimes with dark bloodstains in between each tooth. Sometimes that's not until later. The grin widens at the sound of the whimpers issuing uncontrollably from my throat. "Sleep well, monster?" Laughter piercing the quiet room. My back flush against the wall, it's impossible to pull away when he approaches me. Close enough to smell decay on his breath. "I wasn't too rough with you last night, was I?" His hand slips down my body, stopping to caress the torn flesh between my legs. I retch from the pain. The disgust. He brings his mouth up to my ear. "You know, I could make you enjoy this..." He takes the lobe in his teeth, biting down hard enough to draw blood. I scream, trying to pull from his grasp. "Oh, but it's so much more fun when the enjoyment is ALL mine." He laughs again. "Let's see my little piece of art." He pulls the knife from his belt and starts to saw the fabric of the old dress he costumed me in last night.
Ludicrously, through everything I'm still ashamed of my nudity. "P-p-please...don't..." 
He snarls and my head whips to the side from his backhand. I keep silent as he exposes me. The only sound I can't control being the sickened whining escaping my lips. He backs up to lean against the table, taking in my naked, desecrated figure. I don't need a mirror to know what he sees. Bruises in a wide array of colors, the largest stretching from the bottom of my ribs to mid thigh. Cuts, scratches and gouges of various sizes. Some well on the way to healing. Many still oozing blood. A cluster of bite marks on my left breast and ravaged neck. I've never seen a man so pleased at such an abhorrent scene. "Gorgeous...simply breath taking." He steps towards me again. "How about we play around in here for awhile.." Tapping me on my forehead with a filthy nail. I instinctively close my eyes. A bare fight against his mind tricks. "Ah, ah, ah!" He grabs my face, positioning his thumbs at the bottom of my eye sockets. "If you don't open up I'll pop those lovely green eyes like grapes." Emphasising his words with scant pressure. I open my eyes, meeting his and tumbling into a incorporeal nightmare.

The monster's hand is firmly twisted in my hair, forcing me to view the atrocities he's committed. My mother, lying on her side...so much blood. It pours from the gaping wound on her chest. She's choking. Choking on it. "Mom!" My voice cracking with fear. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING!? 
Daddy is still trying to reach me. Crawling across the floor, the stump of what used to be his left leg trailing blood on the wood. "Maddie.." he gasps. "Run, Maddie! Save yourself!" 
I hear the monster's terrible laugh. The hand not keeping hold on me reaches toward my father. "No! No! Leave him alone! DON'T TOUCH MY DADDY!" The hand seizes father's throat, ripping his jugular open in a spray of blood. I shriek.
"Ha ha ha! Yes! Scream! SCREAM MORE!" The monster whisks his hand over my face, coating me in my father's blood. Laughing. Laughing in unison with my screams.

Thrust back into the present, my screams continue. Stop, STOP! I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE! "STOP!" I pull my head back briefly, before smashing it into his face with all my futile strength. Black dots swirl in my vision as that monster falls back, clutching his nose. The rage in his face is scorching. Against all my common sense, against my fear...I twist my lips into an awful smile and shout his own laughter back at him. I don't flinch at his anger, not even when he slams his fist into my stomach, forcing the wind from my lungs. The pain settles deep in my gut, but still...I won't relent. I won't I won't I won't.. He pulls a heavy, rubber headed mallet from behind the table. The air wheezes painfully through my lungs as I unwisely continue our stare down. He steps within arms reach, tapping the mallet into the palm of his hand. Chained, unprotected by even the slight protection of clothes I can do nothing but watch as he lowers the hand with the mallet to his side. He swings the arm back, still low. My eyes widen when I realize his course of aim. I relent. I flinch. I beg. "Please! Please no! NO! NO! I'M SORRY!! OH GOD NO!" The whistle of the mallet covering the distance to my body. The meaty thump as it connects. As it smashes in between my already abused, torn, cut, raped..."AAAAAAAHHHHHGGG." Agony. Suffering. Unable to handle the pain, my stomach churns as I retch again. The paltry remains of my last meal coming up in a burning gout. Oh dear god mom dad someone please help me I can't I can't too much let me die let me die LET ME DIE LET ME DIE. The last thought a shrill scream in my head until I mercifully black out.

As I recall with my stomach turning, I was hiding away from myself, away from you. Like nothing, though something was terribly wrong.

I need some fresh air. Stepping out of the now antiseptic smelling house, I take a seat on the porch steps. Plugging my ear plugs in, I flip to a random song. Leslie Caron and Mel Ferrer serenade me with a tune from Lili. My favorite movie when I was...well...I sigh. One of the neighbors walk their dog down the sidewalk. Approaching the house, the dog starts barking like mad. His owner gives me a wary look, crossing the street to the adjacent walkway with haste. Despite what had to of been a blood buffet earlier I still get that twinge. I will my inner beast aside. I've already caused enough trouble tonight. Let's not cross any more boundaries. Thou shalt not consume they neighbor, and what not. I hang my head down between my knees, linking my hands behind my neck. I can't even fool myself with my own thoughts. It's not fresh air I need, it's a fucking lobotomy. I'm still hearing whispers. Trying to distract myself with cleaning, music...anything. I still hear the murmuring. I'm weary to my bones, but still not weary enough to calm and reassure myself that these quiet threats are a figment of my imagination. Yes. Yes, I know. Pyotr wants me dead. Franco is going to fillet me and serve me on toast. Everyone and their mother wants me dead. I'm a monster. I'm a beast. I know. I know. SHUT UP. Unconsciously, I emphasize the shout in my head by punching my fist through the step. I quickly pull my bleeding hand out of the hole, scooting over to cover it as I feel Mongrel's eyes on my back from inside the house. I hide my hand in my lap, keeping my gaze ahead. I'm about to start whistling innocently when his cell phone rings from inside, creating a distraction. I pull one of my ear buds out, turning my head to the door as I habitually lick the blood from my injured hand. Listening to Mongrel's irked tone, I pause the music to discern who's on the other line. Hmm. Ronin. Filling Mongrel in on that whole house of horrors deal. I make a face. Shady ass Gangrel. I unpause my tunes. Glad that, for once, I made a wise decision to not join the handful of Kindred on that little trek. I've got my own house of horrors right here. I think, attempting to rub the wrinkles of stress from my forehead. The cacophony of sound coming from the headphones is just accumulating more voices to the din. Pulling both plugs out of my ears, I toss the ipod to the side.

I stare off into the shroud of night. I feel like my thoughts are getting blacker by the moment. Simultaneously wanting to shriek, cry, throw myself on the ground and tear something to pieces...I try to settle myself. Does anyone really have even an inkling of how toilsome it is being stuck in here? Fucking...madness. That word. It's too fucking GENTLE for this. I clench my fists, blood oozing from the one. Is it even the madness I despise? Or is it the sanity? After all, without the sanity I wouldn't even be BOTHERED by any of this. Argh! THIS IS NO WAY TO EXIST. My visage switches from fury to despondency in an instant. It really is a shame Mongrel has that asinine devotion towards me. He'd probably be given a medal of honor for doing me in. My expression softens. My Mongrel. I sigh. Maybe I'll start a feud with E. Driscole. Ha! That one would JUMP at the chance to obliterate me. Briefly laughing to myself, I climb to my feet. A glance towards the horizon gives me barest predecessor to sunrise. I cross my arms, dropping my eyes once again to the ground. I could just stay out here. No. That wouldn't work. Of course Mongrel would pull me in before I'm incinerated. Once again, I'd just be putting him in peril. I could take off...just keep running until the sun comes up. Then...poof. No more voices. No more haunts. No more insanity. No more..Maddie. I bet it would hurt. Yeah. It would hurt. Not just me. I shake my head, attempting to clear it. Ugh. Stop. Quit this self pitying, gloomy shit. I turn on my heel, striding back into the house. Mongrel glances at me, still on the phone, then back to the map on the computer screen. I plop down cross legged next to his chair, smiling as I feel his hand nonchalantly smoothing the hair back from my forehead. Leaning against his leg, I close my eyes and savor the brief lull in my delirium.

I can't show my true embrace, now that you're subdued. I begin to weaken you. Rise and fall we decompose.

I'm following an ambrosial scent through the trees. The questions I should be asking myself barely cross my mind. Where am I? How did I get here? All I can focus on is the smell. I track it to a scant opening in what looks like a bare brick wall. I pause at the entrance. The smell assaults me as if embodied with life itself. It whispers. Come. Come in. Find me. I'm pulled forward, into a maze of sorts. A game? Is this a game for me? I giggle, ignoring the brief tickle of foreboding. It's only when I notice the gap in the wall I came through is no longer there, that sound judgement finally rears it's head. Just as swiftly, the mouth watering scent I followed into this trap is replaced with the recognizable smell of mildew and rot. Things long since decayed. Only the barest hint of light is reaching my still form. In the corners. The shadows breathe. Take form. They want me. I bare my teeth, but there's no denying the fear that's taking over my mind. The unknown figures start to converge on me and I run. Blindly run, taking turns at random. I know my fleeing is hopeless before I even feel the hands of my assailants grabbing me. Pulling me down. The faces of Kindred leering at me. Those whom I thought were allies. I try to appease to the mass of my kin. "Please, what have I done? Spare me! I don't know what I did." They fall on me. Claws tearing my skin. Blades cutting...cutting parts of me away. Laughter as they bite and drink from me. So much pain. I haven't felt this much pain since I was a mortal. My ravaged body is lifted up, passed through, hand to hand. The last face I see before being tossed into a lake of dark fluid..No...no..please not him. Not him. The clawed hand mockingly waving to me as I'm pulled deep into the lake of blood. Grasping, yanking hands. Dead hands pulling me under...under. Blood filling my mouth so I can't scream...


My own gasping bring me out of the nightmarish fog . Or does it? I'm in the dark, but it's...familiar. I feel the brush of fabric on my cheek. The closet. Great. I'm in my closet. I reach up, hand pausing on the doorknob. Taking a hearty sniff, my face contorts in reaction the overwhelming scent of blood. It's coming from the other side of the door. Incomprehensible sounds slip from my lips. Am I awake this time? Damn it. I don't want to open the door. Against my better judgement I turn the knob and step out of the closet. The smell makes my mouth water even through the dread. Oh...god. What did I...fuck. Oh fuck. I rub my face with shaking hands as I take in the the bodies strewn around my bedroom. All the pieces, the blood...I can't even count how many there are. What did I do?? What do I do?! It's almost dusk and Mongrel will...fuck fuck. Mongrel! I broke one of the few rules he actually enforces on me. He'll kill me! I crouch down in my guarded position, trying to finagle a plan when I hear the whisper. He will kill you, Maddie. He'll have to. My eyes snap open. Am I still dreaming? Mongrel would never hurt me? I crawl over to one of the bodies and press my hand against the cooling flesh. Feels real. I lick the blood off my palm and moan. I AM awake. I think. Oh. Please please. What the hell is going on?! He's coming. He's going to kill you. The smell of cloves sends me scampering to the other side of the room. I cower against the wall, blood pooling from the soaked carpet around my bare feet.
Mongrel steps into my bedroom, eyes wide, too many different emotions running across his face to discern. "Madelyn. What...the...fuck?" His eyes fall on me.
"I don't...I didn't..." My words drift off as I bury my head in my hands. Then, I hear Mongrel's voice. You're dead, Maddie. It's time. I wail through my clenched fists. Threats and laughter echo in my ears. This has got to be a fucking nightmare! IT'S GOT TO BE. I hear a warning growl. Sense Mongrel tensing to attack. I can't. I won't fight Mongrel! Fear and delirium come off me in an almost tangible wave. Tangible. I feel something fly from my mind like a cloud. A sound reaches me through the voices. A sound of fear, not my own. I force my hands away from my face. Mongrel's yellow eyes meeting my green ones. Like my own, his are filled with fear. Terror, even. I feel it, so akin to my own. But why? What now? What did I do? Realization creeps over me. My mind defended itself even though my body was unwilling. That power that flows through my cursed blood. I've infected Mongrel. Oh FUCK.

Mongrel falls backward onto the floor with an anguished scream. The sound of it sending a shock through my still heart. He argues with an unseen presence. "N-No..you’re dead. YOU’RE DEAD. I killed you with my own hands. I KILLED YOU. No. No. No. You’re not real. Not real. Not.." I grit my teeth afraid to act as he emits a pained cry. Then, his voice changes"… Evaly, love, what are you doing here?" Oh, no. Mongrel.."No, I killed him. He’s dead, babe. I killed him...for you." 
I'm filled with horror when I realize what he must be seeing. Tentatively, I speak. "Mongrel?"
At the sound of my voice, he staggers to his feet briefly, before falling to his knees with a yell. "Babe?... Babe, is that you? Oh god..so sorry... so sorry. Babe... where are you?" His words turn into panting sobs. Such pain.
Self preservation tossed aside, my thoughts turn solely to my friend as I crawl across the blood soaked carpet to him. I grasp his head between my shaking hands, forcing him to meet my eyes. "Mongrel! It's not...it's not real. What you're seeing. I..it's a...please Mongrel!" My voice, wavering with distress. "I don't know what to do..."
He reaches up, clasping my hand in his own. His eyes looking at me, but seeing someone else. "You're so beautiful..." He smiles sadly and kisses my palm, "I think I had one of those dreams again..it was so real. You were burning." I open my mouth to speak...and close it again. Swallowing around the lump in my throat. He's seeing her. His Evaly. I'm stricken with sorrow. How am I supposed to tell him this isn't real? He leans forward, lips brushing my ear, my neck, as he whispers "...kiss me.." I pull back an infinitesimal amount, trying to collect my wayward thoughts. Mongrel's familiar and comforting scent filling my nostrils. He's always been whatever I've needed him to be. How else can I do this without harming some part of him? And doesn't...doesn't some part of me...want. Want to feel...something..more than nothing? I'm pulled out of my thoughts at the soft touch of his hand, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "My love, Evaly..." I press my fingers to his mouth, cutting him off. I'm silently thankful for the false face he sees as I trace my thumb along his lips, before replacing it with my own lips. Hesitatingly. Gently. Then, as something ignites. My hand sliding across his throat to grasp the hair at the back of his neck. His hands caressing. And I feel...I feel. Oh. My dear Mongrel. I break off the kiss with a inward sigh of regret. His eyes on me as I bite my lip, trying to keep my face from betraying any emotion that might be amiss. "What's the matter, babe?" 
I force myself to smile. "Shh. Nothing, Jack. Just...rest darling." It's relief I feel when he settles against my chest. I kiss the top of his head, the pleased whimper he emits enough to make me thank whatever god that's out there that he can't hear the sound of my heart breaking for him. I hold him for indistinct amount of time, and in that time, I almost feel human.

The realization that neither of us can be lost in this illusion forever comes all too soon as Mongrel starts to stir. A brief glance into his aura tells me the effects of my inadvertent attack on his mind has finally dissipated. The feeling of trepidation once again creeping in. He lifts his head and looks at me with total awareness, for the first time in hours. I dubiously unwrap my arms from him. I want nothing more than to skitter back into the closet, or worse...just crawl back into his embrace and pretend everything's alright. If his face showed even the barest hint of anger, I probably would of ran. But the worry is just as bad. At least...harder for someone like me to deal with. "So.." he looks around the room incredulously. "...I guess you have something you need to tell me?" I attempt to smile and shake my head no. He pulls himself into an upright position and gives me the look. Sigh. I idly poke my finger into the blood-squishy carpet as I inform him of the recent discrepancies in my head. Including everything from the nightmares, the black outs and the new voices. My stomach clenches as I see the concern on his face. The burden I put on him. I rise to my feet, wiping my fingers on my shirt. "Maddie, why didn't you say something sooner?" 
I shrug, half heartily. "You have enough on your plate without my crap. MORE of my crap." 
He takes his glasses off and rubs at his eyes, perturbed. "If you don't tell me these things, how can I protect you?" 
I turn my back to him, senselessly speaking under my breath, knowing he can still hear me. "...maybe you shouldn't." "
Shouldn't what?" He interjects abruptly.
Continuing my gaze at the wall, I reply "Maybe you shouldn't bother protecting me anymore. Maybe you should just let the dam break. Or even...stop it yourself." The last three words spoke quieter than a whisper.
Crossing the room before I can blink, he turns me to face him. "What are you trying to say, Madelyn?" His hands are gentle on my shoulders, but still prevent me from dropping into the protected squat I favor in times like this.
Refusing to meet his eyes, I stare at a spot on his collar. "This was just a taste...just a...bare snippet of what I can do. I can't control it...I...can't control myself. You know this. I can't. I WON'T...hurt you." I can't even have a proper fucking conversation without wanting to lose control! Taking a moment to grasp my wits, I continue. "Hurting you. That's worse to me than any nightmare. Any...memory. You caring about me, that alone puts you in danger!" I struggle around the words, trying to take them from my brain to my mouth in a comprehensible order. "You're all I have, Mongrel. My scant grip on sanity depends on you. To destroy that through my own actions.." I shudder. "That. Can't. Happen. You can't let that happen." 
"So you're suggesting, what...I just up and kill you?!" I finally meet his eyes, letting him see my pain. His voice like a growl, "No. Just..no. That's not even a fucking option." "
Why not? You know. You know I'm nothing but a monster! I don't even deserve..." I cover my face with a sob. I feel his hands move from my shoulders, taking mine off my face and holding them in his own. "Please...stop. I need you just as much as you need me, Madelyn. YOU know this. Taking you from this world would be just as impossible as you doing the same to me." We stare at each other for a few moments.
"Mongrel...you're a damn fool." I say, not without affection.
"Name calling isn't going to goad me into doing it either." he replies, a ghost of a smile on his face.
I bring our clasped hands to my chest, giving his a squeeze. "I'm sorry." That word doesn't even cover it.
He kisses my forehead. "I know." In another barely noticeable burst of movement, he picks up an errant limb from the floor and tosses it at me. "Now, clean your room." I make a face as he walks out of the room. My scowl turning to a smile when I hear him dragging the steam cleaner back up the hallway. My last thought before setting my mind to eradicating any traces of human effluence from the confines of my bedroom. I don't deserve him.

Terror is here, beyond your fear. A ghost of your memory. Desperate dreams can't intervene. The ghost of your memory.

Winter of 1954. Addled and struggling to adapt to this new...life. Life. It's that's what it really can be called. Not dwelling in the same place for long. Never long enough for anyone to find me sleeping the daylight away amongst the corpses of the homes previous inhabitants. I flitted from town to town, knowing what I wanted to do. What I didn't want to do. Orbiting in slowly decreasing circles around a place even through my lunacy, I knew I shouldn't go. Home.

Just in time for Christmas. I stood in the street facing the house. Outwardly, it hadn't changed. The lights were festive and simplistic, a pine wreath hung on the door. I rocked back and forth on my heels, eyes squeezed shut. I shouldn't. I shouldn't. I can't. When I opened my eyes, I was on the porch. What am I doing? I could smell the people inside. Not my family. Not my home. I rub my cold hands over my face vigorously. Fighting the first of many internal battles. Go in. Come home Maddie. Comehomecomehomehomehome. My hand touches the door. Grazes the wood. I hear a faint laugh from inside. The hand curls into a claw. I inhale deeply. I'm so...hungry. The hand, my hand, knocks on the door. I drop down to my knees at the sound. STOP THIS MADELYN. It'll stop when you do what you came here to do. Laughter. Laughter. Who's laughing? Footsteps approaching the door. Heheheeheehee. There's something growling. The faint squeak of the doorknob turning. The hinges creaking as the door opens.
"Yes? Oh..oh my dear. Are you alright, miss?" I smell the man's hot blood pulsing so close, so close. And something else. Long dead, decayed, familiar. Loss. The growling turns to a pained moan, deep from my throat. I feel the hesitant touch of the home owner's hand on my shoulder. I reach over and place my hand on his. "Do you need help? Please, what can I help you with dear?" 
"Help..." I snicker, and grip his hand tighter, before digging my nails into the soft flesh of his wrist. With a jerk, I rend the extremity from the arm it's connected to. His blood pours down my side. I look up just in time to see his look of concern abating to a look of fear and shock. I spring up with a snarl as he backs up, tripping on his own feet and falling backwards into the house. The other voice is gone. All I feel is anger and hunger and the roar of the beast. I step into the house, still holding the amputated hand, and slam the door behind me. "Ben? Who was at the door, honey?" When the woman walks into the room, I toss the hand at her. She catches it with surprisingly good reflexes and then screams when she sees what it is, and what threw it at her. The man seems to have gone into shock. I step over his bloody, slightly twitching figure. The woman's shrill screams are hurting my ears, so I grab her by the arms and throw her into their Christmas tree. She falls with the tree, ornaments and tinsel scattering around her. I see tiny rivulets of blood where some of the glass balls have cut her. I gather a few of the ornaments as I crouch over her. Shattering them between my fingers, I rake the shards of glass over her face, her throat...everywhere. Licking at the gashes. Feeding. She won't stop screaming so I grab a strand of the lights and wrap them around her neck. Her eyes bulge in her shredded, bloody face as I tighten. Tighten. Even after her heart stops it's frantic beating. It's only when I hear the groan of the man behind me that I let the strand, slick with blood, slip out of my hands. I pause, blinking a few times in confusion.

I'm home? Where's dad? Mommy? What am I...I shake my head in frustration. Focusing my eyes on the body at my feet. This woman is dead. Why is she in my house? I turn my attention to the man who's currently attempting to crawl to the table, leaving a red trail behind him. "Why are you in my house?" That smell again. Dad's aftershave. Mom's perfume. Baby powder. Faint smells. Stronger is the smell of death. My family's dead. Killed. And me...and me. I shriek. I lift a heavy end table over my head and heave it at the man, hindering his pathetic attempts at evasion. It lands on his legs and I hear bones snap over his screaming. Grabbing a poker from the fireplace I pummel his body with the iron rod over and over again. Blood and gore flinging everywhere, within minutes the man is barely recognizable as what was once a living being. Panting, my mouth tasting of blood, I give one last jab, impaling the fire poker into his skull. I step backwards until I hit a wall, sliding down it and landing with a thump. All I smell is blood. The fresh blood. The other smells are gone. The voices and laughter are quieted. I wipe my bloodstained hands on my bloodstained shirt. There's nothing here for me. No family. No memories. I hear barking in the backyard. My countenance turns to pleasure as I leap up and dart off the terrace towards the kennels that still line the far edge of the lawn. My mutts! My dogs! The smile on my face is genuine and innocent despite the blood caked around my mouth. I'm brought to a rude awakening when I draw towards the runs. The dogs, snarling, barking at me. My dogs. My Tommy. Autumn's puppies, now grown, showing their teeth and growling. I place my bloody hands flat against the chain link, the smile melting off my face. "Please..." At the sound of my voice, the dogs shrink back whimpering and whining. Tails tucked in between their legs in fear. I stare at the shivering mutts until I hear a faint voice. Monster. My monster...haa haa haa. The dogs start howling. I'm howling with them. And running. Running away. Running from the voices and the memories and the place I can't call home. Running, but not escaping.

Sometimes I don't think so clearly. Get the feeling somethings wrong.

What's worse than a unstable, bloodthirsty lunatic? An unstable, bloodthirsty lunatic who's crazed from sleep deprivation. Scarcely a day has passed that hasn't seen me ripped from slumber, soaked in blood sweat and choking back a shriek. Worse than the usual plague of terrors, now my dreams are invaded by haunting images that seem to be sent from my wayward Primogen. Are these dreams some sort of a message? A memory? A threat? Last time I set eyes on Serendipity he was beaten, bloodied and being dragged away by Sheriff Pyotr. The details surrounding the ordeal are still hazy. My decision to keep my mouth shut, possibly to my Primogen's detriment, is still not regrettable. I'd rather walk with the devil, than be in his path. My choices and actions are to protect who's important. That would be myself, and Mongrel. Not necessarily in that order.

The phone call I received earlier in the night was an obvious predecessor to the events. It was 'Dipity, sounding more manic than usual. He was avoiding Elysium, and in his place, naming me temporary Primogen. Is he out of his mind? Oh, wait...dumb question. That puts a whole new spin on the blind leading the blind. Turns out leading a clan is easy as pie. That may have something to do with the fact that by the end of the gathering, I was the lone Malkavian. Serendipity had been carted off, Camden dead, again. I don't even...anyway. The biggest shock came when Trevor was swiftly executed for Sabbatt involvement. A pity. I liked him. Or, at least I didn't fantasize about setting him on fire. But, I digress. As newly named Primogen and currently the only one standing from my clan, the target I feel centered on my back surely can't be ALL paranoia.

All of this, plus the quotidian burdens I already face has been taking it's toll on my consciousness. My restful days abolished, now I'm periodically losing track of my nighttime waking hours.

The other night.

It really was a quaint little cottage. Glancing at the shining wood floors, the worn yet methodically cared for doilies that the elderly always seem to gather in their homes. Like the wrinkly magpies that they are. I pick up a framed photo with bloodstained hands. How cute. Granny and all the heathen grand kids. With a smirk, I set the picture back face down. As I lick the excess blood from my fingers, my attention diverts to what's left of Kathy Hamlin: widow of Neil, mother of Lucy, Andrea and Jack, grandmother to a mouthwatering amount of grandchildren. How I'd love to see the faces of those children when they take in what's become of their beloved Granny. How I'd love to consume said faces one by one. Most of Gran's body slumps in her favorite rocking chair, the tattered pieces of skin and intestines dangling like the ropes that bind her. Gran's head rests in the entertainment console, devoid of all but the most recognizable features. Her mouth still in a rictus of fear, dead eyes seeming to be studying the decapitated figure in front of her. Pleased with my little display, I give the misplaced old skull a pat and make my way out the back door. I'm out of the yard and into the deserted street that connects the few houses in this neighborhood. I'm quietly humming to myself when a jolt of pain in my side pulls me out of my reverie. I'm reaching around to feel the shaft of the arrow lodged in my flesh when another jolt in my calf knocks me to the pavement. I spit out a few curses from between my gritted teeth as I turn to identify my assaulter. Assaulter..s. Fuck. At least a dozen Kindred stare me down. All familiar faces, led by Pyotr and Tybalt. Tybalt's crossbow leveled at my chest, no less threatening with the missing two bolts currently spearing me. "Your time has come, little one." Pyotr thick Russian accent, normally warm and friendly towards me, is cold enough to make even a monster like me shudder.
The harpy Lucita turns her nose up, "Your time has passed. We've bestowed too much mercy on you." 
I hear Franco Salvatore's cruel laughter, anticipating my slaughter. Despite the crippling odds, I muster up my courage and rise to my feet. I refuse to die groveling. Aware of the arrows point following my movements, I match eyes with the formidable Brujah. "Certainly, Sheriff...you must know I won't go down without a fight. However futile." I bray laughter, catching the mob of Kindred off guard. Perfect. Attention diverted for the merest of seconds, I spin on my heel and take off, sprinting full force in the opposite direction. My frenetic footfalls drowned out by the angered cry and consecutive sounds of pursuit. I don't even feel fear when I see my retreat is thwarted by a dead end. The only end this could come to is a dead one. I whip around, facing the oncoming attackers and garner all my rage and frenzy in a bone chilling shriek. A murder of crows takes off at the sound, their dry feathers falling like rain around me. The thunder of their wings...thunder...

Thunder.

A deafening crash of thunder drags me back to reality. My eyes wide, I survey my surroundings. A local park? The rain comes down in sheets. My clothes are sopping, hair plastered to my face. How long have I been out here? The scent of blood and gore soaking into the ground to my left. On top of one of the picnic tables is the collective parts of a small child and a young woman with strawberry blond hair. No, just blond. A gaping head wound draws rivulets of blood into the blond tresses. The child is little more than decimated flesh in OshKosh B'Gosh overalls. I take slight refuge from the downpour under a tree, staring at the bodies. The faint smell of washed away blood on my clothes matches the scent of the corpses. Ok. I did this. But...when? A brief mewl of concern escapes my lips. Reflexively, I pull my cell phone out, thumb hovering over Mongrel's speed dial. I pause, chewing the inside of my cheek as I think. If I call him, I'll have to explain the fugue...blackout...whatever that was. He doesn't need to worry about me any more than he already does. He's subsequently being driving insane by association..."No." I say aloud, stowing my phone back in my pocket. I step out of the trees protection, gathering up the pieces of my kill. Cleaning up my own mess, I try to ignore the sense of foreboding gnawing in the back of my consciousness.