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

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

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

Feeling.

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

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

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

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

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