[Requiem] Three words - Family, darkness, joy.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_crimsonearth/]

And this one is for mionassmaster - x

It is moments like this that I miss Rex.

This poor girl who has been beaten, used, abused and neglected by her Sire and who begged, who pleaded me for help, lies in a cold unconsciousness, soaked in rich, thick blood and mapped with red weals and bruises, slumped beside me in the car. Micah is a quivering wreck, cowering in the footwell, babbling to himself and clawing at his arms. I will have to levy the curse of my blood upon him later for the things he has just seen me do. But, as the car speeds on through the darkness, there is a kind of peace about me now, in sharp contrast to the fevered struggle and the screaming, biting, clawing chaos of the moments before. Now, all is quiet and serene, and the bloodied knife rests loosely in my palm as the tension leaves my muscles and I relax back.

Inexcusable.

There was no frenzy, no panic, no mistake here. I have helped a hundred or more girls much like her since I returned to this shore; I have held them as they cried, cleaned their wounds while restraining my own fierce hunger, watched the hope blossoming in their eyes as I turned them back out into a world anew, rejuvenated, better than they left it. And I have felt the satisfaction as my work paid off, as they returned to me, came to adore me.

But this one. This one was not mine. This one was spoilt beyond fixing, and she could well be the difference between war and peace. But, nevertheless, what I had just done to her…

Rex would understand. He almost felt like family in those hours we spent clawing out one another’s traumas, lapping up one another’s words. He would understand the violence of before and the disturbing peace now, the whimpers that echoed in my mind, the fright and the panic that I absorbed from her as she struggled. He would understand the sick joy that I took in probing her mind, making it turn in on itself, the doubt and the crippling insecurity that gripped her and plummeted to a death-beckoning despondency. And he too would marvel at the way she fought it back, the resolve and the drive and the fear with which she prevailed.

And he too would be more than a little thrilled at the sight of her now. At the brutal victory I had claimed over her.

But he is not here.

Here there is just me.

And the person who I would normally turn to; he would certainly not understand.

I said I would lie if I had to, in order to keep him. I meant it.